


Bluebonnet

by clinicalia



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: 1970s, Angst, Artistic Liberties, Canon-Typical Violence, Gay, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Bigotry, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Period-Typical Transphobia, Slow Burn, Slurs, Traditional Values
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clinicalia/pseuds/clinicalia
Summary: After the Engineer literally works himself sick, the Scout is tasked to seeing that he gets better as soon as possible.
Relationships: Engineer/Scout (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 55





	1. Summer Cold

**Author's Note:**

> The tags and summary for this story might change the further I get into it.
> 
> I used to write all the time, but it's been some years since I've been actually interested in getting back into it again. Here's to hoping it goes well. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this.

Well, it finally happened.

Everyone figured it was coming sooner or later, but it was put off for so long that it seemed damn near impossible when it did finally come around.

The Engineer had gone and got sick.

Medic had spent no less than twenty minutes looking the man over before he shrugged his shoulders and called it a cold. If that’s all it was, Scout figured it must have been the worst cold ever recorded in human history, because the Texan was held up in his room almost every hour of every day since he’d caught it. The man would only come out to use the bathroom or get a sip of something to drink, usually just water. Scout was incredulous at first. How do you go and catch a cold in New Mexico, in the middle of summer? It was a million degrees outside and you couldn’t even look out the damn window without breaking into a sweat.

“It does not have to be cold outside to get a cold, _dummkopf,_ ” was the Medic’s first response to such skepticism. He sounded offended, as if genuinely put-off by the younger man’s stupidity. “ _Herr_ Engineer has been working too hard and his body was vulnerable, simple as that.” The man pulled his gloves off in one smooth motion with a soft ‘ _snap_ ,’ then closed the door to the Engineer’s room and wheeled his medical supply cart down the hall, back to the infirmary where it belonged. Scout, Demoman, and Soldier were left standing in front of the door. It wasn’t even a minute before the third crossed his arms stiffly over his chest.

“This will not do, men.” Soldier sounded grumpy, almost like a child after finding out he wasn’t getting what he wanted for Christmas. “Without an engineer, we won’t have sentries, or teleporters, or even dispensers.”

“Aye, but is that really such a bad thing, lad?” Demoman had asked, sounding much more mature about the situation that Soldier, even if he had slurred a bit from drunkenness.

“We won’t have those things, but the enemy will.”

Scout and Demoman looked down for a moment, letting realization trickle over them. Not having an engineer on the team was going to leave them at a big disadvantage. Out of everyone on the team to get sick, it had to be Engineer. There wasn’t much Medic could do in this case. The Medi-Gun only worked on physical ailments. If he’d gone and only gotten his legs blown off or something, Engineer would be tip-top and ready to lug toolboxes all around Teufort by now, but no. Instead, he’d gotten a cold.

Scout sniffed and rubbed the side of his neck. “Maybe we can get a ceasefire or somethin’. I mean, this kinda calls for it, right? Ain’t fair to fight with only eight of us, right?”  
  
“Lad. I don’t think the Administrator is going to care too much if we’re only down by one man.” Demo took a swig of his liquor just after saying that, and Soldier nodded in agreement.

“This is war, son. Not the first day of kindergarten. Just because that weak, little Canadian caught a case of the sniffles---”

“Alright, alright. I get it, sheesh. It was just a thought, man.”

Soldier seemed offended but shut his mouth all the same, which relieved the Scout. Demo didn’t seem too thrilled to hear a string of insults said about the Texan either. “’Tis a damn shame, but we’ll have to go out fighting without him. Medic’s gonna be working non-stop to keep us all up and running, now”

Both Scout and Soldier tensed at that. Dealing with an angry, overworked Medic was not going to make things any easier.

Everything went about as expected.

Scout had only called out for the Medic once during the entire battle before deciding he wouldn’t do it again. He’d admittedly made a poor choice and turned a corner to chase after the enemy sniper without even thinking, only to have his leg practically shred to pieces by their heavy’s minigun. He yelled out in pure, unfiltered agony before stumbling back and limping as quickly and far away as he possibly could. Slumped behind a stack of crates, he called for the doctor, and Medic had found him shortly after. The man was red in the face, but Scout couldn’t tell if it was from the heat or rage or even both. Scout was terrified the entire time he was being healed, and the only words Medic had to say to him were harsh insults hissed through his teeth, all in his native tongue.

The man looked like he was ready to skin the Scout alive.

So the boy was a lot more careful from then on out, but he spent so much time thinking on whether or not he should have done something rather than actually getting it done. Everyone on the team except Heavy and Soldier were practically pussy-footing around and trying their damnedest not to get hurt enough for it to warrant the Medic’s help. Needless to say, they lost that match.

“You make me sick,” Soldier gritted out through clenched teeth with a thick, bloodied finger pointed directly at Scout. The accusing digit was then shifted onto the Pyro, then Spy, then Sniper and so on. “And you, and you, and you. All of you make me want to vomit.” Medic stood behind him at his locker, wiping the sweat, dirt, and blood from his face irritably. At some point during the fighting, he’d abandoned his coat and gloves.

“Engineer is sick. He will get better and fight with us soon, then we will have upper hand again,” the Heavy rumbled from his spot on the bench. Sniper shook his head with his arms crossed.

“Takes two weeks for someone to kick a cold, mate.”

Everyone but the Medic turned their gaze onto Sniper, who merely shrugged matter-of-factly. “Sometimes,” he added, as if that would somehow lessen the blow of the bomb he just dropped. Scout was the first to voice his disdain. He buried his face into his hands and slumped forward on the bench.

“No, no, no. This can’t go on for _two whole weeks_! I hate gettin’ my ass kicked!”

Soldier snatched the boy by the front of his shirt and yanked him off of the bench. He held him up just high enough for Scout to barely scuff the floor with this tips of his feet. “Then do not get your ass kicked, maggot! I don’t want to hear any more of your sissified whining! You cannot load a gun and kill a man with tears!”

Before Scout could even squawk out a response, he was dropped hard on ass onto the floor. He grunted and moved to rub his back. Soldier stared down at him, and Scout could see the stern glare just under the man’s helmet from where he sat. Soldier was thinking, and that was never a good thing. Once again, the man’s finger was pointed at him.

“You will take care of Engie.”

“...What?!”

Soldier folded his arms over his chest, posture rigid like an iron rod. “You heard me, maggot.”  
  
Scout sputtered and shakily got up to his feet. “Do I look like the doc’ to you? I don’t know nothin’ about sick people! I don’t know how to take care of ‘em!”

“Just get him whatever he asks for,” the Medic finally spoke up. He slammed his locker shut and slipped his glasses back over his eyes. “Water, food, medicine. Check on him, make sure he is resting.” There was a pause in his explanation before he turned to face the Scout with an icy stare. “Do not make yourself a problem. The last thing he needs is stress.”

“But---!” Scout stumbled over his words, eyes flickering from the Medic to the Soldier before he twisted and looked over the rest of his team. “What about tomorrow? And the day after, and after that? How am I s’posed to fight and cap points if I’m back here playin’ nurse to overalls?”

“We will manage,” muttered the Spy, who took a long and exasperated drag of his cigarette.

“ _Da_. Will be a bit tougher, but not so bad.”

Scout furrowed his brows. He’d never been so offended and hurt in all his life. The truth of the matter was that he was reckless and he often found himself in tight spots, but that was part of his job! He had to get up close and personal with the enemy, he had to flank and put himself in the enemy base! So what if he didn’t always listen out for revved-up miniguns or sentries? He was just doing his job!

That must have been why Medic wasn’t at all worried about having him stay behind and take care of Engineer. Just one less mouth screaming for help to worry about, and Scout’s was definitely the loudest. He looked over to Demo, silently pleading for help. The man looked down sheepishly and rubbed his neck. Scout sighed heavily. It wouldn’t be fair to make him go against Medic and Soldier. That’s a fight tougher than any match they’d had to endure.

Reluctantly, Scout muttered his defeat.

“Fine.”

Engineer woke himself up by coughing. The very back of his throat burned like fire, and the little flutters in his chest did nothing to help how lightheaded he was already feeling. Grumbling in protest against his own body’s aches, he turned over to face away from the wall his bed was pushed up against. He hated this room, and he rarely ever used it for its intended purpose. He kept himself a cot in his workshop that still somehow managed to be far more comfortable than the springy sack of rocks that was trying to pass for a mattress underneath him. The blanket was rough and itchy, and it felt closer to a burlap sack. The pillow was the only thing he didn’t mind too much, even if it was flat and under stuffed.

He could tell by the heat that the sun was up, but he didn’t dare open his eyes to check. Everything felt sore and heavy. His mouth was dry from breathing through it while he slept, but trying to pull in air through his nose only resulted in pressure squeezing at his sinuses and a headache. His brows twitched. Damn, when was the last time he’d been so sick? He couldn’t remember. Had to have been when he was still kickin’ around Bee Cave, way before he started working for RED. He supposed it was his own damn fault, though. The Medic scolded him something awful just the day before while he was examining him. Apparently, he was staying up too late and sleeping too little. Overexerting himself and bringing his body to exhaustion on the battlefield, only to come back to base, shower, and spend the next six or seven hours hunched over his machines. The man barely gave himself three hours to sleep, and meals had been eaten in his workshop, as well.

Engineer couldn’t for the life of him fathom how he’d managed to get himself into such a bad routine. Sure, he was a hard worker, but he never used to be so unhealthy about it. Nothing used to please him more than taking a few hours out of the day just to kick back and relax with a beer, maybe go sit in the rec room and watch _The Price is Right_ through fuzzy static with the Demoman. What in the world had made its way into his head to make him a slave to himself?

He croaked out a groan and tried to yawn, but doing so only served to squeeze tightly at the back of his throat and irritate it further. He couldn’t smell a damn thing, but he was willing to bet all his money that he stank to high heaven. The uncomfortable dampness on his forehead signaled that he’d been sweating - probably all night - and he could taste his breath on his tongue fine enough. His aching body may not have wanted to, but he needed to get up and at least attempt to take a shower.

Sitting up slowly, Engineer’s chest heaved as he let out a few more gravelly coughs, much louder than before. He shook his head disappointingly, as if ashamed of himself, and yanked the blanket off of him. The bed creaked sharply in protest at the shifting of his weight, and he swung his legs over the side. Just as he was about force himself to stand, he heard the doorknob rattle. With not nearly as quick a reaction time as he wanted, he snapped his gaze to the door. It was pushed hard at first, only to be opened more slowly with hesitation. The hinges squeaked dully, but it was enough to make the man’s head ache even more.

He blinked blearily at the intrusive light from the hallway. The only person he would have half-expected to see was Medic, but he was even more shocked to see the Scout standing in his doorway with a bottle of water and some medicine clasped awkwardly in one hand. The younger man looked him over once and made a face that seemed to be a mix of both concern and annoyance. Suddenly, Engineer was very aware that he was dressed in only a pair of boxers.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake your ass up,” the Scout said with only a small hint of indignation. It was obvious that the boy was trying his best to stifle any rude remarks. Well, what the Scout considered to be rude, anyway.

As the other began walking over to his bed, Engineer could see a chair was sitting just outside his door. A sketchpad that looked like it’d seen better days and a pencil had been dropped on the seat. The corners of his mouth turned further down in confusion. Was he sitting out there all morning, waiting for him to wake up?

Quickly pulled from his thoughts, Engineer flinched at the bottle of water that was practically thrust into his face. He grabbed it and watched as Scout placed two pills on his nightstand. When the Texan fixed them with a stare, Scout cleared his throat and pointed at them.

“The doc’ wants you to take those. Says they’re de-, uh...” He paused, fumbling with the word as he tried to recite it exactly as he’d heard it. “De-con-gest-ants. Or somethin’ Anyways, put ‘em under ya’ tongue and let ‘em melt or whatever.”

Engineer seemed beside himself, holding the bottle of water in his lap dumbly as he stared up at the Scout. The boy squinted and jammed his hands onto his hips. Impatiently, he asked: “What?”

“Uhm, s’just.” Engineer scratched the back of his neck. Scout leaned forward just a bit to hear him better, noting that the man’s voice was cracked and far more quiet than normal. “Ain’t today a fightin’ day? Why’re you here?”

Scout huffed and let his hands fall back to dangle at his sides, and the look on his face made Engineer sorry that he even asked. “They made me stick around here so’s I can take care of ya’.”

Oh.

The older man’s expression slipped into one of pity. Just great, not only was he temporarily useless to his team, but they had to go and task Scout with the burden of being his caregiver. That was bad enough, but the last thing he wanted was a loud-mouthed, attention-starved 20-something-year-old hovering over him with a hurt ego. Just as he expected, Scout didn’t take to the look he’d given him too well. The boy’s nose scrunched up in distaste and just as he seemed about ready to chew Engineer out for even daring to pity him, he instead clamped his mouth shut and gave himself a moment to calm his breathing down.

Engineer leaned back, shocked for a second time that day already.

After drawing in a long breath in and out of his nose, Scout shrugged with a small grin. “Ain’t you lucky? Gettin’ to look at my gorgeous face all day for the next couple ‘a weeks.” The boy snatched the pills off of the nightstand just so he could grab Engineer’s wrist and shove them against his palm. “Take those,” he commanded before turning to leave the room. The door shut behind him with a subdued slam. Engineer heard the chair scrape against the floor before it thudded against the wall, and the Scout’s footsteps got quieter as he walked down the hall and away from the door. He looked down at the bottled water and pills in his hands.

At least he didn’t say he smelled bad.


	2. Coughing Fits

Taking a long, hot shower sounded like the best idea the Engineer had ever had. At least, it did when he’d woken up.

It wasn’t terrible; the hot water did wonders to soothe his aches and pains, not from just being sick, but from sleeping on that boulder of a bed. It also helped clear up the gunk in his sinuses and for a little while, he’d be able to breathe a bit easier. However, it also served to make him dizzy, and he constantly had to battle his own vertigo just to keep himself from falling and busting his ass on the shower tiles like a damn fool.

This had to be more than a cold, he thought to himself as he scrubbed his face clean of sweat from the night before. The Medic was downright insane and held no concern for his patients while his birds played around in their open wounds. Surely he was wrong about this.

Engineer let his eyes close just for a moment, long enough to stop them from burning and to center himself. He raised his flesh hand up to run it along his jaw, noting that he needed to shave. Then again, what was really the point? He wouldn’t be going out anywhere any time soon. Yeah. Forget shaving. Maybe.

The man stretched carefully before he went back to work on cleaning himself. He was tempted to pull the footstool from the corner of the locker room over and flop himself down onto it, maybe even take a nap, but that was a long night of some of the worst sleep he’d ever had talking. All that really mattered for now was that he didn’t stink and that he could breathe through his nose for a bit.

Too dizzy and tired to bother with shaving after all, he dried himself off and got dressed into a clean shirt and a loose-fitting pair of pants. He debated whether or not he was hungry enough to bother with breakfast and stepped out of the locker room, turning the corner that led into the long hallway of sleeping quarters. Sure, he was hungry, but it was clear that his mind wasn’t too concerned with food. No, he was more interested in getting more sleep.

Upon entering his room, he froze. Scout was there again, and he was staring hard at the nightstand. The bottle of water had been almost completely drained of its contents, but the two decongestants sat beside it. Scout’s hands were clenched into fists on his hips again, and Engineer figured the boy must have heard him enter the room because he spoke without even looking at him.

“Told you to take these,” he said in a low voice, just barely above a whisper. One of those wrapped hands reached out to carefully pick the pills up. Scout turned to face the other man, expression unreadable. Engineer felt his brow twitch, and he felt something stir in his chest. He coughed and cleared his throat.

“Ahh, don’t really need ‘em just yet.” The oldest of the two waved his hand dismissively and moved to his bed. He sat down on the edge of it with a grunt, then looked back to the boy in front of him. Scout’s features were soft and concerned, and it was an expression he couldn’t ever recall seeing the boy wear. Engineer felt a tug of flattery at his heart, but it was just as quickly stomped out when Scout spoke again.

“I need you to get better, dumbass! I don’t wanna sit around here lookin’ after some old geezer for two weeks! I got BLUs to kill, dammit!”

Engineer’s face fell and he heaved an exasperated groan as he lowered himself down. He pulled the stupid, itchy blanket up to his waist and folded the pillow before dropping his head onto it. “Boy,” he grumbled. “Just leave ‘em there, I’ll take ‘em later.”

“Look, hardhat. Doc’ says you should take ‘em and---”

“When I’m congested. Ain’t congested right now, just had a shower.”

“What’s that got to do with anythin’?”

“The steam---” Engineer cut himself off and sighed. “Son, just get the hell outta here before I beat your ass.”

With that, the man turned onto his side and faced away from the Scout. Silence filled the room and Engineer had to admit, he was somewhat impressed. He’d expected the boy to blow up and start yelling at him, but he didn’t. Instead, there was just the rustling of cloth as Scout shifted his weight from one leg to another. The floorboards creaked, and he heard the decongestants clatter softly back onto the nightstand. “Freakin’ idiot,” he heard the Scout say under his breath. Feet stomped along the floor and the door swung closed with another slam, this time not so subdued. Engineer’s shoulders hitched at the loud noise, and it took him a moment to relax again.

Damn brat.

Scout didn’t come around to bother him for the rest of the day. That was perfectly fine with the Engineer, especially considering earlier events, and he’d be damned if he let the kid see him when he finally decided he needed those decongestants. The rest of the day had been spent sleeping, just as planned.

Engineer didn’t wake up until sometime in the evening, just before dark. He blinked his eyes open slowly at the sound of his teammates chatting and moving about the base. At some point, his door had been cracked open, and the smell of beef cooking caught his attention. His stomach growled with mixed feelings. He was hungry, starving even, but at the same time, he felt nauseous from the smell, as if his gut was warning him: _one bite and you’ll be puking for hours._

He did his best to ignore the smell and closed his eyes again.

“Did little Scout check on Engineer?”

Heavy could be heard down the hall, far away enough to where he had to strain to hear him.

“Yeah, I did,” was the boy’s quiet response, though the next part was much louder. “He’s a real pain in the ass. Stubborn as hell, wouldn’t take those de-con-whatevers doc’ told me to give him.”

Engineer rolled his eyes behind his closed lids, hearing Heavy chuckle. Medic spoke next, though his voice was strained.

“Don’t worry, Scout. He can take them whenever he needs them.”

“Oh, really?” Engineer huffed quietly to himself. The boy’s tone was guilty, hopefully realizing he was wrong to make a fuss earlier.

“ _Ja_. There are other things I have for him to take, but they’re situational. Just give them to him when he asks for them.”

There was the sound of boots against wood as the Medic walked away. He sounded exhausted and irritable, probably from the extra slack he had to pick up without the help of the Engineer’s dispenser. The Texan tried not to linger on that thought for too long, but it was damn near impossible. He cracked his eyes open just enough for him to peer at the empty water bottle next to him.

_If it’s just a damn cold_ , he thought to himself, _I can probably beat it in a few days_.

Two weeks was pretty extreme, but not at all impossible. He’d seen his poor, old momma struggle with one for about that length of time when he was a kid. Nothin’ got done around the house all that time, at least not done right. Everything pretty much came to a halt, and he remembered bringing her a glass of orange juice one morning, only to find her side of his parents’ bed empty.

Poor woman was in the kitchen, stumbling around and trying to get breakfast cooked. When his pa walked in through the front door and asked what the hell she thought she was doing out of bed, she talked around a string of sharp coughs.

“ _I feel useless, layin’ in there all damn day.”_ She’d rasped and reached up for a box of grits, nearly tumbling forward in the process. _“Just lemme do this.”_

He’d beat this cold tomorrow if he had to. There were just too many things that needed doing, and he was letting the rest of his team down. Lids heavy, he closed his eyes and turned onto his back. Just one more night of sleep should be enough, then he’d wake up bright and early, eat a big breakfast, and go to work with everyone else.

He was already on the cusp of sleep when the door creaked further open. Scout was about to walk in when he stopped himself at the sight of the older man presumably sleeping. The boy looked down at the plate of food in his hand, then again to the Engineer before he slowly backed out of the room and shut the door with a soft _click_.

Once again, Engineer woke himself up. He jolted and sputtered before breaking out into a coughing fit, wet and gargled in his throat. The man struggled to sit up, trying desperately to cease his hacking so he could have just one damn second to take in a steady breath of air. He didn’t get the chance until after a solid minute when he finally gasped and drew in deep, heavy breaths. Each intake of air burned his throat. It felt disgusting like he’d swallowed syrup and had it stick to every inch of his throat and mouth. He tried to clear it, tried to swallow it down reflexively, only to start up another coughing fit.

“Damn...!” He rasped, practically spilling out of bed and shuffling towards a dusty bucket across the room. He picked it up and lurched forward, dry heaving until he finally spit... something out. Something as thick as glue and disgusting.

His throat hurt so damn bad.

Dissatisfied, he dropped the bucket and stumbled backward into his bed, where he plopped down on the edge. He raised his hand to smack it against his damp forehead. The flesh there was hot, as was the rest of his face, and he dropped his hand back down to his lap. He couldn’t tell if he had a fever or not, but he didn’t think it really mattered. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand.

4:07 AM

Fighting starts at seven. No one else was usually awake until five. He’d take this time to get a shower, shave, dress himself properly and get to cooking breakfast for everyone. He’d feel better after a big plate of bacon, eggs, and biscuits in gravy, never mind that the thought made his stomach turn at the time. He’d be hungry after a shower.

Medic and Scout were the first to enter the canteen. The team’s doctor looked a bit better than he had the day before as he slowly explained which pill did what. Scout was holding five different amber-toned vials in his hands, squinting at the labels of whichever one the Medic pointed to.

“If he says his head hurts or he has a fever, give him this one.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure, but like. How much?”

“Scout. It’s on the label.”

“Oh.”

The two of them froze when they saw none other than the Engineer sitting down in a chair by the stove. The man was tugging at the plastic of a pack of bacon with a more than agitated look on his face. He hadn’t even heard them walk in.

They stared at him, Scout looking dumbfounded while Medic’s face held a knowing look. The German decided to make their presence known by clearing his throat loudly and abruptly. The Engineer flinched and turned his attention to the two of them. He managed to plaster on a tired smile before he brought himself to stand up.

“Mornin’, fellas.”

The Texan tried his best to sound friendly and alert, but failed. He sounded like he’d just gargled a glass of nails.

Medic’s hands were clasped firmly behind his back. He quirked a brow and feigned suspicion. Engineer chuckled and looked down at the package in his hands. “Thought I’d get myself up an’ cook y’all some---” He quickly brought his arm up to cough into the inside of his elbow before continuing. “---breakfast. Runnin’ a bit late, I do apologize for that.”

The Scout looked to Medic with a somewhat hopeful grin, only to have the German shake his head at him. Scout’s lips twisted into an angry, disappointed frown. They turned their gazes back to the sickly man across from them

“ _Herr_ Engineer. You should be in bed.”

“What for? I feel fine.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anybody else. Medic grimaced.

“Your hands are shaking. You can’t even open that bag.”

“Doc’, I’m fine. I’m just a bit out of it from sleepin’ so much.”

The Medic held back a sigh and swiftly stepped over to his companion. He snatched the hardhat off of the shorter man’s head and pressed an ungloved hand onto his forehead. The look that settled on his face was much like the one he’d given Scout when he was healing his bullet-ridden leg.

“ _Scheiße_. You have a fever.”

“Stove’s just hot, dammit---”

“Scout!”

The boy had been idly watching the two from the doorway. He flinched at his class name being called and quickly made his way to them when the Medic beckoned him over with a wave of his hand. After a short inspection of the vials in Scout’s hands, he quickly swiped one of them and popped off the cap. He shook the vial, two capsules spilling into his palm, then thrust that hand against the Engineer’s chest.

The other man grunted and managed to spare a glance at the Medic before deciding he didn’t want to test his patience. He mumbled a few defeated curses and grabbed the capsules, popped them into his mouth, and swallowed. Medic’s shoulders slumped.

“Good.” Medic twisted to put the vial back into Scout’s waiting hand. “Now get back to bed.”

“Can’t I just take the damn medicine out on the field? I hate stayin’ cooped up in there all damn---”

“If you keep over-exerting yourself while you’re already sick, it’ll just get worse. The sooner you get _back into bed_ and _rest_ , the sooner you’ll be back to work.”

When Engineer remained silent, Medic took that as a victory and turned to leave the canteen, most likely to make and drink a cup of coffee angrily in the infirmary alone. The two stared after him before Scout turned his attention back to Engineer. They stared at each other for a brief moment before the shorter man sighed and grabbed his hardhat from where Medic had thrown it onto the table. He looked down at it, ashamed, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Scout frowned.

“Hey, man. It’s not that bad. I mean, you’re sick an’ all, but. At least ya’ don’t gotta listen to Soldier screamin’ at ya’ to, I dunno. Move a dispenser slightly to the left, or some shit.” The boy gestured with his hands, but the smile he’d managed to make dropped soon after. “Y’know. For a couple a’ weeks.”

“I ain’t gonna be sick for two damn weeks.”

“I sure hope not. I don’t wanna stay cooped up, neither.”

Engineer shook his head and snatched his goggles off. “You don’t gotta take care of me, boy. I don’t need tendin’ to.”

Scout exhaled a puff of air, chuckling. He thumbed the medicines in his hand. “Yeah, I know.”

There was a beat of silence before Engineer’s hand moved to his chest and he bent forward, coughing. Scout’s eyes widened and he stood there for a moment. He was unsure of what to do or say until he finally decided on stepping closer to the man and patting him on the back with his empty hand. Gentle pats turned into soothing rubs up and down between Engineer’s shoulders. Once again, Engineer was shocked.

The coughing fit lasted long enough for Scout to start worrying, and just as he was about to ask if he should run and get Medic back in there, Engineer seemed to sense the panic and shook his head. He waved a hand dismissively. “No, no.” Another couple of coughs and a hard sniff. “No. I’m alright.”

“You sound like shit.”

Despite the bluntness, Scout’s tone of voice held genuine concern that time. He didn’t remove his hand from Engineer’s back until the man straightened. “I’m fine,” he affirmed, then held his hand open. Scout understood immediately and deposited the vials of medicine into it.

He didn’t need the kid to hold onto some damn medication for him.

“Go lay down, overalls. You want anythin’?”

Engineer shook his head again before leaving for his room. He was a touch embarrassed, and feeling Scout’s worried gaze fixed on him wasn’t doing much to help. He only wished he could sleep through this cold, wake up feeling better, and get right back to normality.


	3. Breeze

Despite all of the Engineer’s best attempts, he just couldn’t make himself go back to sleep.

His throat burned a little bit worse than yesterday, his chest felt a little bit tighter. His limbs ached a little bit more. His body was working against him as if the damned thing didn’t want to get better.

Maybe this is some kind of karma. That was his first thought. Maybe he shouldn’t have laughed his ass off at the BLU Spy a week ago after he’d clobbered him over the head with his wrench. If that were the case, that damn rat better be just as, if not more, sick while the Texan suffered. Engineer couldn’t count on two hands how many times the bastard had laughed down at him after sinking a knife into his back.

Everyone else had left for battle except for the Scout, of course. He was sure he’d heard some protest from the brat just as the rest of the team was leaving, but a shout from the Soldier seemed to have done the job of shutting him up. Under normal circumstances, Engineer would have smirked at the thought, but truth be told, he felt bad for the hoodlum. Scout wasn’t the nursing type. He didn’t have the patience or know-how for it. The damn kid could barely read the directions for taking medicine and just before everyone had left, he was sputtering out a line of excuses for him to go along with them.

The kid was loud, brash, and blunt. He had absolutely no bedside manner and it was clear he didn’t care for it. If Engineer had been dying of some disease, Scout would probably just tell him directly to his face: _“Yeah, man. You’re gonna freakin’ die.”_

He was better off running around and beating people over the head with his bat, and Engineer felt a twinge of guilt for pulling the boy out of that action. It might not have been entirely his fault, but he was the reason for it.

About an hour after the team left, Scout had come to check up on him. The Texan was still awake when he heard the door creak open. His gaze shifted onto it, where he saw Scout slowly poke his head in. The boy looked merely curious at first, but his expression was replaced with one of mild annoyance upon seeing Engineer still awake. The door was swung open and Scout stepped in just past the threshold.

“What the heck, Engie? Go to sleep.”

The older man snorted, wishing it were just that easy.

“Can’t. Sorry ‘bout that.”

As Engineer struggled to sit up, Scout stepped forward and raised his hands. The man thought he was going to be pushed back to lay down again, but it never came. Maybe patting him on the back that morning was all the sentimental contact the boy could handle in a day. Nonetheless, Engineer still found himself lowering his frame just enough to sit up sorta half-way, back curled against the headboard of his bed.

He watched as Scout scanned over the room, blue eyes darting over this and that. “S’dusty as hell in here,” the boy commented before his stare settled onto the empty water bottle that had yet to be discarded. There was a moment of silence as Scout seemed to be making some connections in his head. He turned to Engineer. “Have you even eaten anything, like. At all?”

Engineer looked down at himself, mostly at his gut. Sharp pains of hunger had settled themselves into dull aches, and there was no growling to be heard anymore. It was as if his stomach had become complacent to the idea that the Texan would just not eat anymore. The man scoffed at himself. Scout knew what it meant.

“Dumbass,” the boy breathed before turning and leaving the room. Judging by the direction of his footsteps, Engineer knew he was headed for the canteen. Slumping even further into his awkward sitting position, Engineer was grateful for the brief moment without Scout’s judgment. He looked over the room, as well.

It really was a mess.

Scout returned just minutes later with a plate of warm toast and cold scrambled eggs. “Microwave ain’t workin’ again,” he stated as an excuse for half of the meal. At least the toaster was working. Engineer reluctantly accepted the plate of food and picked up the provided fork. Cold or not, it still tasted fine, and his stomach was more than grateful to finally have something in it besides bile.

Scout set a bottle of _Tropicana_ down on the nightstand. The glass clinked softly against the alarm clock. He then snatched the empty water bottle up and tossed it into the bucket in the corner. Engineer grimaced at that bucket, then looked to the bottle of orange juice he’d been given. “Ain’t that one ‘a yours?” He asked before taking another bite of his eggs.

“S’alright, I got more.” He only drank them every once in a while, anyway. Usually, they were snatched up by the Pyro before he could get to them.

Scout didn’t seem as if he wanted to leave. It made eating somewhat uncomfortable since it was so hard for the Engineer to breathe through his damn nose. Forced to chew with his mouth open just a bit so he could pause and take in a breath of air here and there, the Texan tried his best not to notice Scout standing by his bed. The kid was just staring at him expectantly, probably waiting to grab his plate once he was finished so he could take it back and dump it into the sink for someone else to worry about later.

He supposed it was sweet and all, in some manner or form, but it was also irritating as all hell.

“Scout,” the man sighed after swallowing his food down with a gulp. “I hate bein’ gawked at while I eat.”

“Huh?”

Engineer brought a hand up to rub the side of his face. “Didn’t your momma ever teach you that starin’ at folks is rude?” He wasn’t a patient man, either. He could be under the right circumstances, but being sick as a dog wasn’t one of them. Scout shifted and shoved his hands into the pockets of his knickerbockers.

“Uh, yeah. My ma was always gettin’ onto me for it, so.”

He’d said it as if he’d learned something from the experience and that he was proud of it, which only added to the irony. Engineer felt some part of him want to laugh, but his irritation was the more powerful of the two. “Well, didn’t ‘cha listen to ‘er?”

Scout’s brows furrowed deeply, confused. The Texan stared at him the entire time until realization finally smacked the boy in the face. “Oh,” he’d said under his breath before turning around and staring at the wall. Engineer would have preferred if he’d left the room altogether, but that was probably the best he was going to get. Better than nothing.

The man continued eating as quietly as possible until the plate held nothing but crumbs. He set it down beside him on the bed, then reached over for the bottle of orange juice. After popping off the lid, he raised the bottle to his lips and took a few long gulps before lowering it back down with a satisfied sigh. The taste was sharp and cut through all the sick in his mouth, which he appreciated greatly. The food was alright, but he was barely able to even taste it.

He screwed the lid back on and set the bottle back down on the nightstand. Just as he did, Scout finally turned back around and grabbed the plate from the bed. “You feelin’ any better? Want some more?”

God, no.

“I’m fine, son. I appreciate it.”

Once again, he was being stared at as he sank further down into his bed. How in the hell the kid’s mother was able to put up with him for as long as she did, the Engineer would never know. Woman must have the patience of a damn saint. Scout kicked at the floor before looking over the room once more and speaking. “Want me to like. Clean this shit up?”

Engineer looked at him incredulously.

“You mean, you wanna get all this dust outta here?”

“Uh, yeah.” The remark was snarky. “Can’t be good for ya’ nose and all that crap, right? Hell, my throat’s feelin’ kinda scratchy just from standin’ around in it.”

The gesture was thoughtful enough, even if the words weren’t. Every fiber of his being was screaming at the Engineer to turn down the offer. Scout would probably just half-ass it and talk the whole time, anyway. So, he was surprised with himself when he nodded at the boy. _Aw, what the hell,_ he thought to himself.

Scout seemed almost proud, grinning wide when he was given the O.K. to clean. He left the room with the plate in hand, leaving Engineer to silently wonder if he’d made some kind of mistake or not.

When Scout returned, Engineer was still awake. Scout seemed disappointed by the fact, but he didn’t let it phase him for too long. He’d pulled his shoes and socks off at the door, most likely to keep from tracking anything else into the room, and brought in way more cleaning supplies than Engineer had counted on. The older man sat up in bed to watch, disbelief painted over his features.

“What the hell, boy?”

Scout struggled to lower a mop bucket full of soapy, hot water onto the floor before looking back at Engineer over his shoulder. “What?”

“I thought you were just gonna dust the place.”

“Look, man.” Scout huffed and unwrapped the gauze from his hands. “I wasn’t gonna say it since I’m so polite an’ all, but it’s musty as hell in here.”

Engineer blinked stupidly at that.

“I mean, all the damn dust is bad enough, but the air is just.” Scout waved a bare hand and gestured over the room for emphasis. “Stale. Y’know? The air ain’t goin’ nowhere, you’re just sittin’ here, breathin’ back in all the damn germs.”

He knew that already, but he supposed it hadn’t really occurred to him, either. All he could do was tilt his head forward a bit and watch as the Scout snatched a pack of dust wipes he’d brought in from off the floor and set himself to work.

Scout was surprisingly thorough and meticulous, perhaps even more so than Medic. Maybe he was just that bored and needed to work off the extra energy. He went along every edge, every corner. Even the ceiling wasn’t left untouched as he carefully dragged a broom along the aged wood, making sure he swept away from the Engineer’s bed. The Scout made a face when he pulled it back down and began pulling big clumps of filth from the bristles. “Nasty,” he commented. “Should’a brought gloves or somethin’.”

Something about this was awkward, but the Engineer couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It had to be the fact that he was a grown ass man lying sick in bed with a much younger man practically mothering him. His gut twisted at the mixed emotions; humiliation and flattery. He hadn’t had someone do anything like this since he was a child. His own mother babied him a bit when he was younger, but she pulled the reigns in as soon as he turned eleven. She didn’t fuss over him near as much and she certainly didn’t clean up after him.

_You made the mess? You clean it up._

_You caused the problem? You fix it._

Simple as that.

His father was sure as hell the same way, only since day one, and this just wasn’t in Engineer’s nature. He wasn’t raised to be so passive about accepting help such as this, especially from a coworker that was around twenty years his junior and seen as the team brat. The Engineer was just a bit too prideful for all of this, but color him surprised: Scout was diligent.

Every surface had been dusted, and after that the floor was swept and mopped. Without even asking for permission, Scout tugged the cord of the blinds on the only window in the room. He pulled them up just about halfway so he could open the window, but he also opened the blinds to let in more sunlight. It was a bit warmer, but not by much if Engineer was being honest, and the breeze that blew in every now and then sure felt nice.

“S’not too bad outside,” the boy muttered mostly to himself. He did squawk out an indignant remark upon seeing a fly screen, however. “What the hell, you got one ‘a these on your window? That ain’t fair!”

Engineer couldn’t help but chuckle at that one, low and rumbling from his chest. “What, you don’t have one?”

“Hell no, mine was ripped off or somethin’. What the fuck?”

The Texan laughed, voice full of mirth and warmth despite the occasional strangled cough. Scout clicked his tongue and gave the man his best pout.

“That shit ain’t funny, man! You know how hot it gets here? I’d kill to open my window and shove a fan or somethin’ in it without lettin’ in all the stupid bugs around here.”

“I know, I know. It does get ‘bout to blisterin’ around here, don’t it?” Engineer let his laughter settle down into nothing more than an amused tone. His chest rattled out a few more coughs before he spoke again. “Truth be told, I haven’t put this room to use since I first started workin’ here. I just sleep in my workshop.”

Scout stared at the fly screen as if thinking, _what a waste_.

“Maybe we can switch then.”

“That’s too much hassle, son.” Scout seemed about ready to protest before Engineer breathed out one last chuckle of good will. “Tell ya’ what, I’ll put one in your window when I’m feelin’ better.” He’d do it right, too. The one over his was just put on with a stapler gun. It’d always been like that.

“Really?” Scout smiled, hopeful. Engineer nodded.

“Sure. I owe ya’ that much.”

That smile didn’t leave Scout’s face when he turned to gather up everything he’d used to clean, the old bucket included. Engineer was relieved that Scout didn’t notice whatever it was he spat out earlier that morning before piling used dust wipes over it, or at least if he did see it, he didn’t say anything. Engineer merely watched from his bed as Scout began setting everything outside in the hallway.

“I gotta say,” the Engineer found himself saying. “I didn’t think you’d be so careful about your cleanin’.”

That earned him a loud scoff.

“The hell is that s’posed to mean?”

“You just seem like the type to not care, s’all.” When Scout didn’t have anything to say to that, Engineer added more. “I was willin’ to wager that your own room looked like a twister blew through it, but. Now, I ain’t so sure.”

“Jeez, man. I ain’t a freakin’ slob.” Scout turned to face the older man, frowning. “You guys really think I’m just some little kid or somethin’, huh?”

A little knot of guilt made itself known in the Engineer’s stomach. It hadn’t ever really occurred to him that Scout most likely knew that he was seen in such a way by his team. The boy’s voice held some chime of awareness to the fact, fed up and a bit sad. Scout looked down and carefully pushed the mop bucket out of the room with his foot.

“Worst I do is forget to put away my clothes.”

Engineer tilted his head back at that. Made sense. He remembered quite a few times when Spy had gotten miffed about Scout hogging all the laundry baskets to himself.

“Sorry, son.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I get it.” Scout shrugged. “I just ended up helpin’ my ma a lot with stuff like this, so it ain’t that hard for me or nothin’.”

“Ain’t you got a mess of brothers?” He remembered that much from all of Scout’s rambling over the years. “Wouldn’t the oldest be helpin’ with all that?”

“Naahh, he was always too busy runnin’ off and gettin’ into trouble. He wasn’t ever really home.”

Engineer hummed in understanding and watched Scout lean against the door frame. “The one that came before me was always sick with somethin’. He missed a lot of school and shared a room with me, so I always had to clean up after ‘im and make sure he wasn’t gonna croak or whatever.”

“Didn’t you ever catch anything from ‘im?”

“Nope, never. I only been sick once in my whole life.” He raised a single finger for emphasis. “And I didn’t even miss school for it. I wanted to play baseball too bad. Anyway.” Scout shifted his weight against the frame to get as comfortable as he possibly could. “I hate stale, sick air. No offense or nothin’. I just got tired of sharin’ it and takin’ care of my brother all the time.”

A brief look of shame crossed Engineer’s expression, and Scout quickly tried to recover.

“But I don’t mind doin’ it for you! I just-- I dunno, me and my brothers fought all the damn time, but me and him especially, y’know? I guess ‘cus I got kinda bossy with him, tellin’ him not to leave this and that out. You know.”

“I get’cha.” It didn’t help to make Engineer feel too much better, but it did just enough.

The clean air was working a miracle on him, warm and fresh from a mix of Scout’s hard work and the sun-filtered breeze from outside. It was oddly nostalgic. Before he realized it, the Engineer was dozing off. Scout seemed to have picked up on it and moved to rest his hand on top of the brass door knob. “Goin’ to sleep?”

“M’hmm,” was the man’s tired reply. Scout nodded once.

“A’ight.” Scout’s voice was softer than Engineer was used to hearing, but it was welcomed. The hinges squeaked quietly as the door closed, and Engineer was left alone to sleep, breathing easily once again for the first time since he’d gotten sick.


	4. To Good Health

The following days had gone by in a blur, and Engineer couldn’t have been any more grateful.

Having Scout around to keep him company wasn’t nearly as horrible as one might think, even if there were a few incidents here and there. Sometimes Engineer didn’t feel like eating or getting up to shower or taking any of the medicines when he honestly should have, and all these things would piss Scout off. The youngest was dying for Engineer to get better, and sometimes he would hear Scout running the length of the hallway back and forth. Clearly either Soldier or Medic had told him not to leave base.

Thankfully, the cold didn’t last two weeks as everyone had feared. It was only five days and on the day he would finally get back to business as usual, Engineer had felt better than he ever had in years.

Physically, at least. He wouldn’t dare mention it to a single soul, but despite being so badly sick, the rest was good to his body. Old aches and tensions that had been riddling his muscles were either dulled down or gone entirely. He could breathe again, his head didn’t hurt a bit, and he had a bit of bounce in his step when he woke the morning after. The only thing that lingered was a slight sniffle, and that would no doubt be gone the next day.

The Texan smiled rather peacefully as he closed the door to his locker. He’d showered and shaved and gotten dressed in his usual work attire.

Yep, things were back to normal. Shoot, better than normal.

The Pyro was awake and sitting in the canteen alone, pulling at the pages of an old magazine and threatening to tear them free from their staples. Engineer chuckled as he walked by, headed straight for the kitchen.

“G’mornin’, firebug. You tearin’ up more of Spy’s things to burn?”

The Pyro expressed their muffled excitement upon seeing Engineer up and about. The man even sounded back to his old self. No rattle in his chest and no gravel in his voice. Well, none from any sickness, anyway.

He didn’t stop smiling for a second as he opened the cupboard and extended an arm up to reach for a box of grits that had sat there untouched. He was the only one who liked them, after all. Pyro was at his side, hissing happily through their mask and mumbling what the Engineer understood to be questions.

“I’m feelin’ just fine. Thank you kindly for askin’.”

The Pyro giggled and watched him move about the large space, gathering everything he needed to make a big breakfast. It used to be that whoever cooked that day was decided by a schedule, but it didn’t take long for the Engineer to discover that was a bad idea. Most of them couldn’t cook to save their skins, the only exceptions being Spy, Sniper, and Demoman.

But Spy almost never felt like cooking for anyone but himself, and the Sniper was about the same way since the Aussie rarely liked eating with the rest of them.

Demoman was a damn good cook, but only when he wasn’t drunk or hungover, in which case he was likely to fall asleep at the oven and burn the whole base down.

So Engineer had let the task fall onto him most days of the week. He wasn’t at all bothered by it; he enjoyed cooking and breakfast was by far his favorite meal of the day. The only complaint he’d ever gotten was from the Medic, who insisted on pointing out how fatty his food choices were each and every time. It’d grated on his nerves at first, but it eventually became just another amusing quirk to be added to his familiarity with the team.

Scout always loved it, that much was certain. The kid rarely ate anything that anyone else cooked, and was sure to make his disappointment known upon ever finding out that Engineer wasn’t cooking.

His smile grew in size, just a tad. He’d make the runt’s favorite since he’d done so much for him. Pyro clapped their hands gleefully at the sight of Engineer pulling down a box of pancake mix.

Breakfast had been laid out on the table before the rest of the team filtered into the canteen with Pyro’s help, and after a thorough inspection from Medic, the Engineer was deemed fit to work again. No fever, no trembles, no aches and pains. He did find himself suppressing his sniffling, worried that would be enough to set the German off. When Medic stepped to the side and patted Engineer on the back, as if presenting him to everyone else, the Texan grinned.

“Welcome back, _mein freund_.”

Most everyone made a show of clapping their hands and whooping, happy to finally have a full team once again. Heavy and Demoman had never looked so relieved in their whole lives. With dispensers back on their side of the field, Medic wouldn’t be nearly as stressed, and that was good news for them all.

Engineer took a seat at the table just as Medic had, hands quickly grabbing a fork and knife and making good use of them. He was damn hungry.

“Is good to see Engineer feeling better again, _da_?” Heavy’s question was directed at everyone, but his elbow nudged their youngest member, who sat beside the towering Russian. Scout was busy stuffing his mouth with more than half of a pancake when it happened, and he looked close to a cat who’d been interrupted during a nice nap in the sunshine. “You did good, little man. Am proud.”

Any irritation the Scout held in his expression melted away almost instantly and was replaced with elation. He chewed the syrupy wad of goodness in his mouth before swallowing it down and speaking.

“Yeah, I know. S’hard not to be proud of me, I mean. Damn, I did good, right? Maybe I should be the team medic.”

Heavy erupted into boisterous laughter at that, which only increased in intensity at the sight of Medic’s face; stiff and riddled with disbelief. Heavy’s hand came down onto the Scout’s back just once, and it took everything the kid had not to choke and spit out some of the best pancakes he’d ever had from the sheer force of it.

“Jeez, big guy! Gonna kill me!”

Engineer smiled blissfully and leaned back in his chair. Everything felt right again. Pyro was playing around and making little structures with their food before they would inevitably scarf it all down in secret at the last minute. Spy was tuned out of the conversation entirely, instead choosing to skim through a crinkled mess of a magazine that the firebug had gotten their hands on earlier.

Everyone looked pleased as Punch to be eating his cooking again and to have him back in good health. He looked down to his plate and contentedly cut a slice out of his smaller serving of pancakes, practically basking in the sound of everyone’s good-natured chatter.

Scout sat just across from him, ankles crossed and elbows propped up on the table. He chewed graciously with a smile and stared at the Engineer who, despite previous complaints, didn’t seem to notice one bit.

Medic could be heard laughing maniacally somewhere off in the distance as the Engineer leaned himself against a newly built dispenser. The man must have sawed right into some poor BLU’s rib cage again, and it was easy to tell the German was enjoying every second of this battle now that he didn’t have to devote all of his time and attention solely on fixing the Medi Gun’s beam on someone.

They had this one wrapped up nice and pretty already, he could tell. Everyone on RED had high spirits and fought well together now that things were back up and running smoothly. Engineer sipped languidly on a bottle of warm beer, a grin plastered shamelessly on his face at the sound of his sentry beeping and pumping bullets into some poor, unsuspecting fool.

“Heh,” was all he had to offer for the body that flopped backward onto the ground, lifeless.

It was a scorcher, hotter than any day he could rightly recall, but that didn’t seem to bother any of ‘em one bit. He sure as hell felt no worse for wear, even if he was pouring sweat. Demo and Pyro let out gleeful battle cries as they ran past his sentry and right into the capture zone completely undeterred. Shortly after, Scout rounded the corner and backed himself up against the dispenser. The boy’s chest heaved and his mouth formed an ‘O’ as his breathing caught up with the rest of his body. Engineer merely smiled as he eyed the other, the satisfying ‘click, click, click’ of him reloading his scattergun almost like music to his ears. It was good to be back.

“If I was a spook, you’d be six feet under by now.”

Scout jumped, nearly dropping his gun and whipping around to face the Engineer. “Jesus...!” The Texan guffawed.

“Damn son, sorry. Didn’t mean to make ya’ wet your britches.”

“Shut up, man! I ain’t wet nothin’!” Scout huffed and wiped the sweat from his brow. Engineer’s smile twitched. “And I ain’t gotta worry ‘bout no stupid spy like you guys do. They can’t ever catch up to me.”

“Well, that’s all peaches an’ cream, but what about when you’re standin’ still next to my dispenser, where you think it’s safe?”

Scout rolled his eyes and groaned, but the Engineer could sense no real agitation from the action. The tell-tale sound of a bell chiming over the RED’s intercoms signaled that they’d captured a point, and it was time to move on to the next.

He took another long sip of beer before setting the bottle down and hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his overalls. He gave them a good tug upwards and set himself to the task of packing everything up so he could move it all to the next point. “ _Welp_ , best get goin’.”

Scout watched as he kicked the side of his teleporter, which somehow made it fold in on itself, and pack it into a toolbox. He hoisted the thing up onto his shoulder with a grunt and made to move past the boy, only for Scout to press his open hand firmly against his chest, stopping him. Engineer’s smile faltered and slipped into a confused frown.

“Hey, wait a sec’.”

Engineer did just that but was clearly restless as his attention turned to watch Sniper and Heavy move past them towards the next available cap. His gaze fell back onto Scout, who was looking down with a slight pout on his lips. Engineer squinted at him behind his welding goggles, curious as well as impatient.

“S’wrong, boy?”

He sounded more stern than concerned, and Scout shifted his weight around nervously. That only served to pull at the older man’s nerves more. “C’mon now, I gotta get this stuff moved up.”

“I was just wonderin’ if you’d be in your workshop or not later. Y’know, tonight?”

Engineer couldn’t help the tilt of his head at that question. He looked up with a pondering expression. “Most likely, seein’ as I ain’t bed-ridden no more. Why?”

“Can I come by, just to talk and stuff?”

It felt like something was gnawing at the lining of Engineer’s stomach, but he found himself nodding after a couple of seconds of thought. Scout visibly relaxed.

“Thanks.”

The youth practically bounced backward with his gun pulled to his chest and a grin plastered onto his face before turning and running towards the point.

Engineer watched for only a moment, bewildered, before snapping himself out of it and hurrying along with his toolbox in tow.


	5. Lonely

They’d won that match with very little issue, and to say the team was ecstatic would be a major understatement.

There was some celebrating to be had and while Engineer had stuck around to participate for a good couple of hours, he’d eventually felt the day’s battle catch up with him. Familiar aches were starting to make themselves very well known, and suddenly he’d found little enjoyment from all rough-housing and hollering. He managed a laugh before setting an empty bottle of beer down onto a table and pushing himself off of a chair to stand.

“Well boys, if y’all would excuse me. I got some tinkerin’ to catch up on.”

The man had lightheartedly waved off any concerned statements and chuckled. The only place he wanted to be now was his workshop.

With almost a week having gone by without anyone so much as glancing at the door, he wasn’t surprised to see a few dust motes floating about when he flicked on the light. The smell of oil and metal was almost unfamiliar to him, but he would quickly readjust to it after a short while. Carefully, the Engineer took eager steps down the short set of stairs and made his way over to the last thing he’d been working on before he found himself sick. He pulled an old wooden bar stool closer to the large hunk of junk and tugged down the tarp that had been haphazardly tossed over it before he left.

He placed both hands on the thing and drummed his fingers against it. Where had he left on, again...?

It was an old engine he’d pulled out of some truck that was meant to be hauled off to scrap. The damn thing was more than thirty years old but he was certain it hadn’t been driven for at least twenty. Engineer sniffed and decided to start from the top, or at least pretty close to it. He began inspecting the engine, damn heavy thing, and made sure nothing had somehow gotten rusted, though he seriously doubted that would be an issue.

Of course, he’d forgotten something that transpired earlier that day, but he was reminded soon enough when he heard a knock on the frame of his workshop’s door. He tossed his gaze over his shoulder to see who the visitor was and, upon seeing what he hoped was only a tipsy Scout, he quickly remembered about their brief interaction at his dispenser earlier that day. He slowly straightened his posture from hunching over his little project and turned more to face the boy.

“Howdy.”

Scout seemed like he was having a hard time focusing on any one thing in the entire room. His face was just a touch flushed and Engineer tried his best to recall how much the other had to drink, or if he’d even been paying attention at the time. It didn’t really matter too much. They hadn’t been drinking for too long up there, and it wasn’t all that surprising or hard to believe that Scout would be a lightweight.

He watched as the kid practically stumbled down the stairs and took a few tentative steps closer to where the Texan sat. When Engineer had yet to receive any response to his greeting, he dropped his hands onto his knees with a loud pat. Scout tore his gaze off of whatever he’d been gawking at to look over at the shorter man. Still, he didn’t speak, and Engineer would be a liar if he said it wasn’t just a tad bit unsettling. Seeing Scout so quiet and thoughtful was not a common occurrence.

“Y’alright, son? Look like you swallowed a frog.”

Scout’s face scrunched in disgust at the thought, but he nodded just the same and raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah, uh. Hey.”

Well, better late than never, he supposed.

“Take a seat.” Engineer dropped from his stool and moved to hook his foot behind the leg of an old, plastic chair that had been sitting not too far away. He pulled it closer and watched as Scout spilled into the thing, arms limp and heavy. The boy stared at his hands, looking downright depressed. Engineer’s brows furrowed underneath his goggles, but he wasn’t sure where exactly to go from there. The man had been just fine at reading the expressions on peoples’ faces, but like most men his age, he lacked sorely in talking about emotions.

Maybe Scout was just a sad drunk.

He would have a hard time believing it, but it was better than daring to ask if anything had been bothering him. So he climbed himself back up onto his stool and turned to face the engine. “Mmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, trying to get back on track, before reaching over the top and furthering his inspection.

Scout slumped into the chair. He’d wanted to talk to the man about literally anything. It didn’t matter what. Yet, he suddenly found himself without words. With heavy hands, he opted for playing at the fabric of his shirt, trying to ignore the urge to pull at a loose thread. The only things he could hear were the clinks of metal parts as Engineer took some tool to whatever the hell he was working on and his own heartbeat thumping incessantly in his ears. Only a few minutes had passed in silence, but to the Scout it felt like hours. He leaned his head back to dangle over the edge of the chair and watched Engineer work. His glove was off, and he had his robotic hand roaming all over the nooks and crannies in the machine.

Finally, he spoke.

“What’s that?”

Engineer spared him a glance without stilling his hand. “S’an engine.”

“Like a... Like a car engine?”

“Yep.”

Scout drew in a deep breath and let it out in a huff before turning his attention to an old pickup truck that sat far against the back wall of the workshop. He pointed to it. “S’it go to that?”

Engineer paused at that question and looked up to the truck, as if he had dozens laying around and wasn’t sure which one the Scout was referring to. “Sure does,” he affirmed before looking back at the boy. Scout looked like he was about ready to explode, all heavy with tension and an awkward frame. Unsure, Engineer decided to just keep talking. “It’s, uh. It’s an old pickup I found not too far from the base. Was headed into town for groceries when I saw her, just sittin’ all lonesome in some old man’s barn.”

“Oh,” Scout offered dully before leaning forward to get a better look at it. “Looks like a pile ‘a crap to me.”

Engineer scoffed, though not of any offense. The boy wasn’t really wrong, after all.

“Yeah, but she can be fixed, and once she is, she’ll be the prettiest thing on four wheels.”

Engineer heard the sound of plastic scraping against concrete as Scout stood from the chair. He watched the boy practically wobble over to the truck and clap his hands onto the bottom of the driver’s side open window. He hoisted himself up, feet finding some stability on the running board, and leaned his upper half over into the truck through the window to get a look inside.

“Jeez, it’s frickin’ huge in here.” Engineer laughed.

“Yeah, she’s a Hudson.” He hadn’t found any rust on the engine, which was of no real surprise, and so he figured it was time to start draining it of any oil that had been left inside. “They called that one a _‘Big Boy.’_ Plenty ‘a room in ‘er.”

“The floor’s got carpet, man. That’s freakin’ fancy.”

“Heh, yeah. But I’ll rip that outta there once it comes time for me to get to it.”

“What? Nooo, leave it in.”

“Boy, it’s old. And judgin’ from the smell, there’s probably some mold in it.” Engineer sounded stern, but he held a slight smile on his face. “’Sides, it’ll just be a hassle to clean out all the dirt and sand that’ll get tracked in there.”

He heard Scout click his tongue in disappointment. “I guess you’re right,” he relented, then pulled himself back out of the window. He stepped down and turned toward the Texan. The kid’s face was still flushed, but at least he didn’t look so damn sad. “Why’re you fixin’ it up, anyway? Ain’t we already got a truck to take us back and forth to places?”

“Sure, but this’n’ll be mine, for personal use.”

Scout squinted, suspicious.

“Like, for what?”

“Inquisitive little thing, aren’t ‘cha?” That time the Engineer did sound a bit annoyed, the smile dropped from his features. “How’s about ya’ stop meddlin’ and help me out while you’re here?”

Scout blinked several times and looked at the complicated mass of iron that sat on the worktable in front of Engineer. What was the man even doing? What the hell was leakin' out of it? “Er. I dunno nothin’ about this stuff, hardhat.”

“Y’aint gotta do a thing ‘cept hand me what I ask for.” The man paused to look slightly around the Scout. He raised his hand and pointed to a group of empty plastic jugs behind him. “Like a couple ‘a those, for starters.”

Scout twisted to look behind himself and grabbed two before stepping closer to the Texan to hand them over. He stiffened slightly when the man’s fingers slipped underneath his own to grasp the handle of one of the jugs and tug it free. Engineer then held it underneath where the oil had started to drip out and moved his thumb from the opening of the drain to let it flow out more freely.

“...Thank ya’.”

“Sure, no problem.”

Scout wasn’t thrilled to allow a thick moment of silence to settle between the two of them, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't seem to work out why. He’d clearly upset the man somehow, but it seemed pretty silly for the Engineer to let such minor prodding get to him. Scout raised a hand to rub at his cheek, the other still awkwardly grasping the second jug.

“Sorry,” he finally offered, though his voice was tight and uncertain. Engineer didn’t bother to look up at him, which only added to his anxiety.

“What for?”

“Meddlin’.”

Scout had done a poor imitation of the other man’s Southern accent with the word, and it had at least managed to pull a breathy chuckle out of the Engineer. The oldest of the two tilted his head up just slightly, but Scout could still feel his gaze on him through those goggles. He shifted on his feet apprehensively.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Engineer offered, hoping the words would dispel any tension. “I just ain’t quite used to such casual inquiries about my private affairs.”

That only served to make Scout even more curious. Just where in the hell was he gonna drive this thing?

“Don’t you talk to Pyro and Medic a lot?”

The Engineer sighed, and for a moment, Scout thought he’d asked one question too many again. He watched as the man set the jug down onto the floor. Its contents sloshed just barely, almost half-full with oil.

“Pyro is... Well, they’re kinda like a dependent to me. I look after ‘em and make sure they don’t go an’ get themselves or anybody else hurt when they ought not.” Scout nodded at that. Understandable enough. “The doc’ is just a, well. How do I put it?”

Scout watched Engineer lean back and fold his arms over his chest. “He’s a colleague. We’re both of a scientific mind, but he’s a bit too meddlesome in his own right, and I’m sure it’s safe to say that as brilliant as his mind can be, it ain’t all quite there, neither.”

“So, what? You’d rather keep away from ‘im?”

Another sigh escaped the man’s lips. “Basically, yeah. If I can manage it.”

Engineer took the other jug from Scout’s clammy hand and began draining something else out of the engine. There was another tug at the boy’s insides, and suddenly he seemed to have slipped back into a state of melancholy. Engineer noticed, but wished he hadn’t.

“Ya’ don’t, like.” Scout was fidgeting again, and every shift of the boy’s clothing was enough to slowly inch Engineer’s vexation further along. “Ya’ don’t hate me, right?”

He looked up at Scout, and somehow the younger male could tell he was taken aback by the question. He fumbled with his words and started to wring his hands worriedly. “I mean, I came in here all stupid and sad and started pryin’ into your business, right? That was pretty dumb an’ all, and I don’t want you to go around avoidin’ me like everyone else does.”

Engineer’s head felt like it was spinning and ready to tip over some unknown edge. He raised a hand up to the boy, almost defensively, and tried to cease his nervous rambling.

“Son, now wait. I never said I hated anyone---”

“But ya’ said you avoided doc’, right? ‘Cus he’s always meddling?”

“Well, yeah. But he’s also insane.”

“And I started meddling, and now you’re thinkin’ I’m just some stupid kid that ya’ gotta tune out an’ tell to leave ya’ alone.”

Was the boy even listening?

Engineer’s chest tightened miserably at the sight of Scout’s own heaving. He sounded close to hyperventilating and the last thing he wanted was for him to start bawling his eyes out. The last time he’d dealt with these kind of dramatics was when he was still in high school, for god’s sake. He wasn’t equipped for it then and he sure as hell wasn’t equipped for it now.

The man stood and reached up, clasping his hands firmly on Scout’s trembling shoulders. The other’s breathing began to slow, but the tension in his muscles did not let up. Heat practically radiated from the boy’s cheeks and ears, the flesh red and displaying his embarrassment vividly. Engineer swallowed a lump in his throat, and he could have sworn he felt it drop like a pit into his chest.

“Just calm the hell down.”

Surprisingly, that worked. Scout’s expression shifted from panic to one of mere slight discontent. It was Engineer’s turn to fumble with words, and he tried his best to piece together the least offensive thing he could possibly say to the boy so as not to send him into another fit of drunken hysterics.

“I think,” he started, and he took a moment to swipe his tongue out and wet his lips. “I think you’re a bit tired, and you’ve had probably too much to drink, and I think you ought ta’ go lay down and try to get some sleep.”

Engineer was sure to keep his voice soft. His hands never left Scout’s shoulders while he spoke, and he didn’t know whether the change in the younger man’s expression was one to worry about or not. Scout looked calmer, but not sated. If anything, he seemed disappointed, or maybe ashamed. It was only when Scout lowered his gaze to the floor that the Engineer finally let his hands slip down and back to his own sides.

Scout looked off to the side, avoiding his stare.

“I wanted to talk.”

Engineer mustered up every spec of willpower within him to keep himself from sighing again. “’Bout what, son?”

Scout’s hands were flat on his stomach as if he were worried he might vomit. Engineer worried the same thing for a moment until he spoke again, voice low and a little shaken.

“Can I just... come hang out with you more?”

It almost felt like a loaded question, even though Engineer knew the boy was only hoping for one simple answer. For him, however, it was like he’d been pushed into a trap where there were only two means of escape: misery and a slightly less horrible version of misery.

He didn’t want to say no and upset Scout. That would just cause more problems in the long run. There would be awkward glances and passive-aggressive comments made on and off the battlefield, and while any normal person would only be able to keep that kind of childishness up for maybe a few weeks, Scout was not a normal person. He was immature at best, and he knew the kid was capable of holding onto a grudge for years to come.

Saying yes would bring the possibility of this kind of thing happening again, and even when Scout wasn’t drunk, he could still talk someone’s ear off when he felt like it. He was nosy, blunt, and had a way of goading someone into making conversation with him against their will. He really didn't hate Scout, he just hadn’t ever been able to handle him except for in small doses.

Engineer settled his Gunslinger onto his hip, his organic hand moving to rest on the back of his neck.

He thought back to only a few days ago, when he was sick as a dog and Scout was made to look after him. The day he’d offered to clean his dusty wreck of a room - and did - was still a bit of a shock to him. He was careful and thoughtful and spoke with a level of maturity he hadn’t really heard come out of the boy before.

‘ _You guys really think I’m just some little kid or somethin’, huh?’_

The words rattled around Engineer’s head as he mulled over his two measly options. His hand slipped a bit further down along his neck, closer to where it curved into his shoulder.

He was going about it in all the wrong ways, but Scout was looking to prove himself.

“Alright,” he finally rasped, and he hoped for dear life that Scout couldn’t sense his uncertainty. “You can come ‘round here every so often.” Before Scout could even react, Engineer’s entire body stiffened, and he fixed the other with a stern gaze.

“But not when you’re drunk. That’s rule number one.”

Scout’s brows furrowed at the mention of rules, and Engineer already knew what he was thinking. He raised a finger at him pointedly, effectively silencing any incoming argument.

“This here’s my workshop. It’s my space, and I’d like to keep a certain kind of atmosphere in it. Understand?”

Scout nodded, although reluctantly. Engineer began listing off his directives, emphasizing each one by counting them on his fingers.

“So, rule number one, ya’ can’t come in here drunk, not even a little. Rule number two, if ya’ come in here, I expect you to help out. I don’t want you just sittin’ around not doin’ a damned thing. And rule number three, I don’t wanna hear you complain about any ‘a my rules. We clear?”

Again, Scout managed an affronted nod. Engineer scowled at the sight, and just as he raised his hand higher to signal he would ask again, Scout lifted his own to rub the heels of his palms over his misted eyes.

“Fine, fine! Jeez, okay! I’ll follow your stupid rules!”

“Ya’ just broke number three.”

Scout’s mouth dropped open, and he struggled to squeak out an offended protest. Engineer shook his head.

“My rules aren’t _stupid_. You ain’t gonna call ‘em _stupid_. That’s complainin’ about ‘em.”

Scout’s fed-up expression hardly had any effect on Engineer, and when he could see that, the boy crossed his arms with a huff. “Fine.”

Engineer seemed to settle into some semblance of calm. He’d honestly expected more of a fuss out of Scout, but he didn’t seem at all too put off. “Good,” he managed to say before slapping his hand onto the other’s back and giving him a firm push towards the stairs. “Now go on, git.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m goin’, don’t gotta shove.”

Engineer didn’t miss the mild amusement that was laced within Scout’s voice. He watched him ascend the stairs clumsily and leave the workshop, then hooked his thumbs under the straps of his overalls. In one exhausted motion, he unclasped them and moved to close and lock the door.

He never knew he could be so worn out just from talking to somebody.


	6. He Couldn't Even Change a Tire

Fridays were always the worst days for battle.

It would possibly sound cruel and ironic to outsiders, but they were given weekends off from the war. Fridays were always the worst because both teams would put everything they had into fighting, just so they could start their time off on a high note and make a good impression on their weekly report. 

BLU was not the best in the middle of the week, for whatever strange reason, but toward the end of it, they suddenly became near impossible to break. Every single Friday was a nightmare; just one long day full of some of the most unpleasant experiences one could encounter. 

As such, it was no surprise that Engineer hated Fridays.

They didn’t finish until late that evening, when the sun was already good and set. Engineer was panting hard and heavy as he tiredly descended the stairs to his workshop, dripping with sweat and cursing his middle-aged body for even daring to ache as bad as it did.

The very first thing he did was clasp a hand onto the back of a standing fan. He leaned heavy into it, fingers fumbling with the knob on top of it before he finally managed to turn the damned thing up all the way to its highest setting. He put his other hand on his hip and hung his head to catch his breath, simply standing there and trying his best to enjoy the only slightly cooler air upon him. The man’s back was in a sorry state, that much was certain, and when he finally moved to roll his shoulders, he cringed at sound of popping and cracking from tired joints. 

I’ll leave the damn thing on, he thought of the fan. Maybe it would somehow miraculously make the room’s temperature more bearable. I need a shower. 

Almost everyone else had the same idea, so it seemed. There wasn’t an puff of steam to be found as every single tap spewed water from anywhere between refreshingly cool to ice cold. Engineer sluggishly stripped himself down and kicked his clothes into a pile against the wall with everyone else’s. He glanced briefly at the Soldier, who was huddled over with his knees practically glued together, arms around himself, under what he could only assume was the ‘ice cold’ variety of water. Somehow the Soldier knew that he’d been noticed.

“W-Wha-What are you st-staring at, m-ma-maggot?”

Engineer tried his best not to laugh at the shuddering voice, which sounded a few pitches higher than normal. He settled for an amused smile and shook his head. The Texan moved himself into an empty stall and twisted the valve just enough to get himself some cool water flowing.

“Nothin’, Soldier. Nothin’ at all.”

“G-Good. Keep your eyes t-to yourself, sh-shrimpy.”

The only ones who weren’t there were Pyro, Spy, and Medic. The first two were for obvious reasons, and Medic wasn’t exactly the type for communal showers, much like the Spy. Engineer tilted his head back and stood directly under the spray, flesh hand moving up to aid in washing off all the sweat and grit from a hard day’s work.

“Who’s in charge of laundry this week?” He asked, only to be met with nothing but the sound of water splashing against tile. He tried not to make any audible sounds of annoyance. “See, this is why I still think we ought to each do our own.”

“W-we were g-given an injunction, son! St-strict orders from t-the Administrator herself!”

Engineer did allow himself to scoff that time, loud enough for all to hear. “What, that little piece ‘a paper she had someone tack onto the wall out front on our first day?” His hand moved to grab a bar of soap. “Those were more along the lines of suggestions, and we practically already treat ‘em as such.”

“I w-would n-never allow that to---”

“Then why am I always the one damn near chained to the kitchen stove every mornin’ and evenin’?” Engineer heard the Heavy laugh from a few stalls over. The Texan joined in, talking between gladdened chuckles. “Just ease off it, Soldier. I really don’t think she cares which one of us is handlin’ each other’s unmentionables.”

“The lad just doesn’t wanna have ta’ do his own laundry,” the Demoman chimed in, his own voice tickled and laden with laughter. “How much are ye willin’ to bet?”

Heavy bellowed again, louder than before; his voice echoed and bounced off of the walls, much to Soldier’s dismay. Engineer grinned. The Russian could sure be cheerful under the right circumstances. He listened as the Soldier began shouting his defense over the stall. Engineer had already managed to rinse and wipe off any scum that was on the bar of soap and was lathering up a wash rag he’d grabbed from the top of the lockers. Soldier would never dare admit to it, but he could be every bit as childish as the Scout when he wanted to be.

Speaking of, he hadn’t even known the boy was in there with them. He hadn’t so much as snickered during the entire conversation, and that in itself was to be considered strange. Any chance to verbally beat up on Soldier was something Scout usually cherished. That’s why it was even more surprising to hear the kid’s voice cut through the noise.

“Sheesh, man! Shut the hell up! I’ll do all the stupid laundry!”

Once again, all that could be heard was running water against tile. The awkward silence was so prevalent that it managed to make Engineer’s ears ring. They could hear Scout clear his throat meekly from the very last stall. 

“Well, g-good. Affirmative.”

The water in Scout’s stall was turned off and the boy quickly got himself dried and dressed before leaving the room. Engineer could only muster a frown at the occurrence.

Everything seemed well and fine with the engine.

He had just finished putting the damn thing back in when the Engineer decided to take a seat at his worktable and relax for just a moment. His fingers drummed against the wooden surface carelessly. Suppertime had come and gone without any problems except for one: Scout didn’t show.

Normally, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it. After all, he’d stuck himself with laundry duty and was probably kicking himself in the teeth for it. No one wants laundry duty, not when said laundry belonged to a group of eight sweaty men and a Pyro. It was probably best to assume Scout was just grumpy from a grueling day of work and taking on the single worst chore on the list.

Yeah. It was safe to bet on that, and yet he couldn’t get his mind off the rowdy, little hooligan.

Without realizing it, he’d picked up a pencil and started to fidget with it, pressing the eraser against the surface of the table and letting his hand slide down the length of it, only to flip it to the other end and start again. Once more, he was enveloped in a deafening silence. Every creak of wood, every tick of his alarm clock was enough to drive him up the wall.

Why did he feel so bad?

Engineer finally dropped the pencil and leaned forward, arms hung over his knees and fingers laced. He couldn’t work it out at all, but he felt somewhat responsible. Not in the sense that he thought it was his fault that Scout was upset, but in that he felt like he should have done something to make him feel better. 

_Could’a offered to help,_ he thought. _Could’a pulled him aside and have a little laugh about Soldier._

_Could’a, would’a, should’a. But didn’t._

Engineer let a few more seconds of quietude tick by before he slapped his hands against his knees and stood up. He didn’t do anything wrong, and he wasn’t going to let it ruin his evening. He kicked the side of an old toolbox with a booted foot, sending it toward the pickup truck in a noisy clatter. There were more things that needed to be done before he started on anything major, but the most important thing was that working on the truck would keep his mind busy and off of Scout.

The man squatted down low and reached out to his side to grab onto and roll an old creeper over before he let himself plop down onto it with an ‘oof.’ He didn’t have the truck lifted up just yet, and he most likely wouldn’t bother until later. He reached into the toolbox to pull out a flashlight and clicked it on. He’d just check the body a bit, see what kind of damage he was working with there. His hand raised so he could brush a thumb over a small but fairly deep dent. _Huh, must’a kicked a rock up against it,_ he pondered bemusedly.

There were more similar to it, and as much as it saddened him, it wasn’t at all surprising. There were hardly any paved roads around Teufort and it wasn’t out of the question to assume there were none at all back in the day when the truck was in its prime. Most roads were gravel and dirt, and he reckoned the sound of rocks hitting the bottom of the truck was louder than any engine or radio. There was absolutely no chance that he wanted to replace the original body, so he’d probably have to spend days carefully popping out dents.

He groaned and thumped one of the offenders with his knuckle. Damned things.

“Why don’t ‘cha just---”

Engineer let out an undignified holler and jolted forward, damn near slamming himself into the side of the truck. His head whipped to the side to glare over his shoulder. Scout blinked and let his hands slip off of his knees as he moved to stand straight, having been leaned over and only inches away from the Engineer’s ear. 

“...make a new one?”

“Boy...!” He gargled out, then cleared his throat and clicked the little button on the side of the flashlight to turn it off as angrily as possible. “Damn! Tie a bell around your neck if you’re gonna come in here sneakin’ up on me!”

“Sorry,” was all he was given in return. Scout’s hands slipped into his pockets before the boy looked him over, and the damn kid grinned. “Hey, didn’t mean to make you ‘wet yer britches,’ pally.”

Engineer’s glare hardened. The fluttering in his chest had barely calmed down since he realized he wasn’t in any danger of getting a knife sunk into his back. He breathed out and slapped a hand over his chest, trying to will his heart to calm down. “When’d you even get in here?”

“Just a minute ago,” the boy answered casually, like he didn’t even care that he’d practically given the Texan a heart attack. He watched Scout reach down and snag a pedal wrench from the toolbox. The younger male inspected it, turning it over in his hands a couple of times before holding it at his side and tapping it against his thigh. “Pyro saw me draggin’ all of you guys’ smelly clothes into the basement and started mumblin’ somethin’ at me. Guess they felt bad or whatever. Anyways, they took over the laundry and shoved me outta there.”

“Ya’ didn’t even stick around to help ‘em?”

“Hey, they shoved me outta there. It hurt like hell. I don’t think they wanted my help.”

Engineer took a moment and gave some thought to that. Maybe some of Pyro’s things got mixed up in there and they didn’t want anyone else to see. He shrugged dismissively and shook his head. “Well, don’t come in here without knockin’ again. Damn near scared the skin off my bones.” Scout smirked.

“Havin’ ta’ knock ain’t one ‘a the rules.”

Engineer scowled lightly. The kid sounded so smug, but he wasn’t angry enough to whoop his ass, at least.

“Yeah, well. It is now.”

Engineer practically grumbled the statement as he sat himself back down onto the creeper, ignoring Scout’s indignant whining. “And ya’ breakin’ rule number three again right now.”

That got him to shut up, if only for one blissful moment.

Engineer pushed a jack under the truck, positioning it just so that he could begin taking off the tires, starting with the left rear. He reached behind himself, gaze locked on the tire he was set to take off. “Hand me that lug wrench.”

There was silence, and when Engineer had yet to feel anything put into his waiting hand, he turned to look at his ‘guest.’ Scout was staring at the arrangement of tools that started from the toolbox and all the way up along a section of wall. He’d never seen someone so overwhelmed in all his life, and it took all he had to suppress a squawk of disbelief when the boy looked at the pedal wrench in his hand and held it out for the Engineer to take.

“Wha... Boy, ain’t ya’ ever changed a tire?”

“No! I mean, not really? I dunno!”

“How in the hell do ya’ not know?”

“I ain’t ever had my own car before! Anywhere I had to get, I got there by walkin’ or takin’ the bus!” Scout paused, realizing he hadn’t exactly answered the older man’s question. “Look, I seen my ma do it before, but I didn’t really pay any attention.”

Engineer ran a hand down the side of his face, then pointed at the wall. “That one. Looks like a big ‘X,’ near the bottom.” 

The man watched as Scout turned back to the wall and scanned his eyes over the selection of tools briefly once more before leaning over and pulling the lug wrench down from where it hung. He looked it over, as if thinking, ‘Ahh, so that’s what that is,’ then finally handed it over to the Engineer, who’d been ever-so patiently waiting.

“’Bout time,” he muttered, then motioned to the pedal wrench that was still in Scout’s hand. “And put that down, it ain’t needed for this.”

Just after Engineer turned around to face the truck once again, Scout stuck his tongue out at the back of the man’s head childishly. He dropped the pedal wrench down next to the toolbox, not caring how loud it was, and leaned himself back against the wall. He watched Engineer take the flat end of the lug wrench and slide it underneath the hubcap, popping it off and catching it against his chest before setting it down onto the floor. By then, what little interest he held had waned, and Scout turned his head to stare at the fan. He watched as it threatened to blow off a large blueprint from the top of the worktable before his attention was pulled back onto Engineer.

“Actually, c’mere. I want you to do this.”

Scout snapped his gaze back onto the older man, who’d already stood up and was holding the lug wrench out for him to take. Once again, Scout looked overwhelmed, and he held his hands up defensively.

“I just told you I ain’t ever---”

“Ya’ can’t possibly hurt a thing tryin’. These tires gotta be thrown out, anyway. The rubber’s gone bad.”

Scout lowered his hands some and let his shoulders slacken. Engineer looked tired, but the anger he’d held in his expression was almost, if not entirely, gone. It was a bit hard to tell with the man’s goggles still on.

Scout stepped forward and took the wrench into his hands. Engineer put a hand on the boy’s back to guide him on closer, not missing the way he’d tensed up under his touch. The Texan pointed down to the creeper. “Sit ya’self down on that.” Scout obeyed, still holding the wrench tight against his chest with both hands as if it were the only thing between him and a fiery explosion. He was clearly out of his comfort zone.

Engineer smirked.

Cute.

He pulled the plastic chair that Scout had used just the night before over and sat down beside the younger man. His hand moved to gesture towards the tire. “Alright, now loosen them nuts up. Not all the way, though.”

Scout looked like he wanted to say something to that, most likely something immature if Engineer had to guess, but he did as he was told. He leaned from one side to the other, staring at the nuts with a skeptical look before he squinted down at the wrench. Slowly, awkwardly, he lifted it up and slid one of the ends forward and over one.

“A’ight, now turn it, counterclockwise.”

Scout looked back at the man with an uncertain gaze, and Engineer was already twirling a finger in the direction he’d said. Looking back to the tire, the boy did just that for each nut, and Engineer was a tad bit impressed with how careful he was not to take any of them off entirely. He watched Scout lean away once he was finished and look back to him for more guidance.

“Uh. Now what?”

“Well,” he grunted out, leaning forward to point under the truck. “I already went ahead and put the jack underneath, so all you gotta do is lift it up.”

When Scout tilted down to get a better look, Engineer clarified: “But for future reference, ya’ wanna get it under the frame, next to the tire you’re takin’ off.”

“Oh, uh. Okay.”

Scout leaned back up, and for a good bit, nothing was getting done. Engineer slumped.

“Take the wrench and stick it on that knob.” He pointed, and Scout did as instructed. “Now crank it to the right.”

Scout seemed to struggle with the task, but he was getting along fine enough. It was a bit awkward, changing a tire for the first time. At least it was for him, back when he’d first learned from his pa. Scout seemed to be in the same frame of mind: he didn’t want to break anything, but he also didn’t want to take an embarrassingly long time getting the job done.

“Keep goin’. S’almost up... Alright, stop.”

Scout grunted and loosened his grip. 

“Good, now unscrew the nuts, all the way this time. Mhm, right. Now, take it off ‘a there.”

Scout stood and pocketed the lug nuts, then bent down to grip the sides of the tire. He pulled it off with another soft grunt, then looked to Engineer. The man waved his hand dismissively, signaling that he didn’t care where it was put, so Scout moved to set it down flat on its side behind the truck and out of the way.

“Attaboy, now lower the old girl back down.”

The look on Scout’s face was priceless, enough to make a wide-set smile tug hard at the corners of Engineer’s lips. He already knew what the boy was about to ask.

“Wait, what about the other tires?”

“Well, ya’ gotta do the same thing for each of ‘em.”

Scout’s brows furrowed deeply at that.

“So. I gotta do all that. Again. Three more times?”

Engineer nodded and hummed in affirmation, cheeks tingling just a bit from such a big smile. “M’hm.” And the way the boy slumped forward and moved a hand up to go through his own hair, nearly tipping his cap far back enough for it to slip off of his head? It just made the man laugh, harder than he had in months, maybe even years. He slapped his knee and fell against the back of the chair, threatening to tip himself over in it.

Scout tugged his cap back down and smiled.


	7. A Secret Shared

“I don’t mean to pry, but what had ya’ so upset earlier?”

Scout was finishing off the last tire when Engineer asked him that question. His hands were covered in red dirt, tinting the gauze on his hands a deep shade of orange. Engineer had suggested he just take it off, but Scout declined. He slid the tire off of the truck and simply let it sit on the floor in front of him, folding his arms over the rubber to use it as something to lean against. Scout looked as though he were contemplating something, maybe calculating a response that provided only the bare minimum amount of detail. Engineer watched his face for any and all changes in expression, doing some calculations of his own.

Finally, Scout shrugged.

“I dunno how to talk about it.”

Engineer leaned back in the plastic chair, surprisingly unsatisfied with the answer. Normally, he wasn’t the type to discuss feelings, let alone with someone he worked with. Perhaps he still felt a bit guilty for not doing something to take the pressure off of Scout earlier.

“Was it somethin’ I did?”

“What? No, no. God, no. Engie.” Scout practically shot up onto his feet and whipped around to face the man. Engineer would have taken a step back, had he not been lounging and idly watching the younger man work. “Why would you even think that?”

He didn’t seem too obliged to answer, and Scout could tell right away. It felt like an entire minute had passed before Engineer stood. “You got those jack stands in place?”

Scout’s brows furrowed, but he nodded without even so much as a glance back at the truck. He watched as Engineer sniffed and turned to look at the clock. “Eh. S’not too late. C’mon, let’s go get some new ones.”

The boy looked awfully confused for a moment before his expression softened and he finally remembered that he’d only just finished taking off four dirty, rotten tires. He moved to pat his hands on his pants only to pause and begin unraveling the wraps from them. Engineer failed to hold back a smirk, shaking his head.

While summer days in New Mexico were near unbearable, nights were refreshingly comfortable. Scout took a moment to stretch in the cool air, happily twisting this way and that as Engineer hopped into the driver’s seat of RED’s shared vehicle. No one else ever really used it, save for Soldier on very rare occasions; the man was banned from almost every shop in town, so his addition to the truck’s mileage had dwindled significantly over the years.

Just as he slipped the key into the ignition, Scout swung the passenger’s door open and hoisted himself up into the seat. The truck started up on the first turn of the key for once, but not without a fairly disgruntled knock from the engine. Engineer made a face at that but shrugged and leaned back to shift gears. He’d get to that later.

As soon as they pulled out of the gate, Scout leaned forward and began fiddling with the radio. Dials were twisted back and forth as he tried to sort through the static and find something he could at least half-way make out before settling on a station that was warbling out some rock tune. Again, Engineer made another face and moved a hand over to change stations.

Scout exclaimed and shoved the hand away before it even had a chance. Engineer smirked. 

“What are ya’ doin’? That’s a good song, man!”

“What, that?” Engineer should have been ashamed of himself. He didn’t even try to hold back his amused laughter. “That’s just noise, son.”

“Tch, look ya’ old geezer. I ain’t gonna sit in here and listen to some sad cowboy pluck at a banjo for twenty minutes.”

“Well, what if I don’t wanna listen to some group of scratchy-voiced delinquents yellin’ at me the whole time I’m drivin’?”

“Unbelievable. This is The Kinks, man.” Scout explained and moved to turn the volume up a little. “They sound good, you just ain’t got any taste.”

Engineer wanted to counter, just for the sake of playful argument, but decided against it. It didn’t sound too bad, he supposed, and the quick view he’d caught of Scout leaned over with his arms folded on top of the dashboard, the content expression on his face illuminated just slightly by the light from the radio, was enough to make him reconsider.

It was a bit hard to make out the lyrics with static crackling and popping over the song so often, but Engineer could pick up bits and pieces about meeting a woman in some club and having a dance with her. Scout’s smile slowly dropped and when the boy shifted to hide his face, Engineer wondered whether or not he should just turn the radio off.

“Too much static?” The Texan managed to ask, and he reached over again to adjust the dial. Scout shook his head.

“S’fine.”

They arrived just before the tire shop was getting ready to close. Engineer was glad they stayed open for as late as they did, but he made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t inconvenience them like that again; he felt pretty bad seeing the curly-haired girl behind the counter tiredly slip out from the backroom to assist them. Scout had enough decency to load the tires into the truck for her. If he hadn’t done it, Engineer would have, anyway. Once they were paid for and they’d stepped back outside, the light up front that illuminated the shop’s name flickered off. Engineer glanced over his shoulder to see her locking the door.

Understandable.

“S’only, like. Eight-somethin’,” Scout said quietly. Engineer scoffed.

“Most places ‘round here close up around five, son. ‘Sides, we came in right as she was finishin’ up.”

Scout hummed and clicked his tongue. “Yeah, I guess.” He opened the door on his side of the truck, then grinned. “Hey, can we stop somewhere and get somethin’ to eat?”

“Didn’t ya’ just hear me?” The truck shook gently as the two both climbed inside at the same time. “And I already ate earlier, ain’t hungry.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t.”

“Should’a stopped mopin’ around and come fixed yourself a plate, then.”

Scout pouted, and the look of hurt on his face was scarce but genuine. Engineer’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. Why did he even invite the boy along, and why after dark, when pretty much everything in a small town would be closed up for the night? He tapped a gloved finger against the steering wheel, and that seemed to somehow pull the words out of Scout, because the boy practically flung himself back to melt into his seat.

“Look. I was mad earlier ‘cus it was a rough day, and I dunno if you noticed, but I didn’t do too good out there.”

Engineer quirked a brow but listened intently. Yeah, he hadn’t done well, but they still won the match. That was usually enough to settle down any insecurities that manifested among the team. Scout sighed and continued.

“Towards the middle there, ya’ know. Kinda looked like we might lose, and I was startin’ to get pretty frustrated ‘cus, y’know. I can’t get on the damn point without gettin’ a bullet between my eyes, and nobody was there to help me. And outta nowhere, here comes Sergeant Shit-Britches, and he’s mad at me ‘cus I ain’t on the cap gettiin’ shot in the head.”

Ah, now it was starting to make sense.

Engineer relaxed in his seat and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “So, ol’ Soldier was yellin’ in your face?”

“Yeah, I mean. Practically spittin’ on me. I already hate that enough, y’know? Like screamin’ at me ain’t gonna change the fact that I was alone for like, twenty freakin’ minutes.”

Engineer nodded.

“But then he grabs my shirt and shakes me around, and he starts callin’ me stuff.”

There was a silence after that, thick like glue. Engineer turned his gaze to the dash for a second, face twisted into a concerned grimace before he looked back at Scout. 

“What kinda stuff?”

“Ah... Y’know. The usual.” Scout’s voice lowered as he said that, muttering. “Pansy, sissy, fairy. Stuff like that.”

Engineer shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Things were taking a rather disagreeable turn, to say the least. He managed a nervous laugh. “Shucks, Scout. He calls all of us that kinda shit when he’s pissed off. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know. But it don’t make me like it no more, ‘specially when it’s bein’ spit in my face.”

Scout’s tone dropped a bit lower by the end of that, and Engineer was left mentally smacking himself in the mouth. Of course, Scout didn’t like it. Nobody did, and he himself was one of ‘em. Hell, he detested it. Loathed it. He scratched the stubble on his jaw, awkwardly fumbling with the words in his head to try and stitch something together that would make Scout feel better.

“He never means it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He’d hoped the implication was enough for the boy to understand exactly what he meant by that, and it seemed like it was as if the other’s face was anything to go by. Scout looked down at his lap and lamely pinched at the skin between his thumb and index finger, and for a while, it seemed like the boy hadn’t anything to say.

But Engineer could see the rushed pace of his breathing, the hitch in his jaw that made the muscles just underneath his cheeks clench and swell. Scout had more to say, but he couldn’t find a starting place, couldn’t even allow himself the words, and Engineer was at a loss. He wasn’t sure what he could do or say to ease the boy’s tensions, or if he even should. Scout didn’t seem like the type to prefer bottling his feelings up, that much had been made very clear.

Engineer cast a pleading look to the keys that dangled from the ignition as if starting up the truck and driving back to base would somehow fix everything in an instant. 

Scout finally spoke again, voice just barely above a whisper.

“Engie, you ever...”

The oldest of the two squinted, and suddenly his goggles felt much too tight. Scout turned his head to look at his window, actively avoiding his reflection in the side mirror.

“...You ever think about. Other guys?”

Engineer swore that one day he’d walk right up to Spy and wring his scrawny neck like an old dishrag. The damned bastard should be having this talk with Scout instead of him, and it should have happened way sooner. The truck rocked as Engineer shifted yet again. He swallowed a generous amount of spit, trying to wash down a nervous lump that had gotten caught in his throat. 

Scout seemed to be doing just the same. His fidgeting had gotten worse, and Engineer could see the panicked, regretful look the boy had plastered on his face in the reflection of the window. The poor kid looked like a deer caught in headlights, desperately trying to will himself to make a run for it, but so scared that he couldn’t even manage that most basic reaction. 

There wasn’t a single other person in that parking lot. The lights in the store had been turned off not that long ago, and the girl working there had already gotten in her car around back and left. The only light they had was from the street lamps, which cast a dull, yellow-orange glow against only the things closest to them. The passing of another car on the main road behind them was slower than needed, and yet the sound of the small gust it created, the tires crunching the gravel underneath them, was so close to deafening at that moment.

Engineer dared to look at himself in the rearview mirror, and he silently noted that he looked like a man about to take a leap off of the nearest bridge.

“...Yes.”

Scout’s head pivoted just slightly toward the older man, and he wore the same sorry look Engineer did. 

“Really?”

Engineer nodded, his grip on the steering wheel more akin to a stranglehold. He watched from the corner of his eye as Scout tilted his head down and fixed his hands with a hard, steady stare. He clasped them together, tight enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“I won’t tell nobody.”

It was quiet and sincere; so thoughtful in the wording and pitch despite how simple it was. Engineer found himself relaxing, tension rolling off of his shoulders as his grip on the wheel went slack. The quiet that settled between them was cumbersome at best, and yet it also managed to contradict itself by allowing them some comfort. Scout had managed to get more out of him than he’d ever allowed himself to give, at least when it came to the matter of his sexuality. Under any normal circumstances, Engineer might have bolted like a frightened, wild horse by now. Had it been anyone else, he might have lashed out and given them a good, hard kick in the gut for added measure. 

Instead, he found himself relieved.

Scout looked as though he had more to say, more questions to ask, but Engineer wasn’t sure he could handle much more than he already had. He reached for the key and turned it a couple of times before the trucked rumbled to life. The boy didn’t seem at all bothered that he didn’t get the chance to talk more, and Engineer was entirely grateful for it.

“What ‘cha want to eat?”

Scout smiled and shoved his hand into his pocket to fish out his wallet.

“There’s this place in town I like. They’re always open.”

“A’ight.”


	8. Understanding

It was some beat-up drive-in that probably couldn’t even afford to stay open so late, but Scout had vouched for it, and seeing as the younger man was set to pay for his own food, Engineer wasn’t too bothered.

Scout didn’t, however, want to stay.

He said he felt uncomfortable just sitting there in the parking lot under all the fluorescent and neon lighting. Engineer wasn’t sure where the sudden shyness had come from, but he wagered it was due to the nature of their previous conversation. So as soon as they were handed their food, Engineer backed out of their spot and drove off. Scout dug through the paper bag in his lap just long enough to look everything over, then leaned back with a contented smile.

“Everythin’ right?”

Scout nodded. “Yep.”

He’d driven them outside of town, far away from any street lights or cars, just about half-way back to base. He went off the road a small ways and parked the truck by some withered, old tree that hadn’t a single leaf on it. Scout hopped out and slammed the passenger side door behind him, then walked around to the back and sat down on the tailgate. Engineer followed suit, but opted for standing instead. All he’d ordered for himself was a drink. Tea, to be specific, and Scout watched as he flipped the plastic lid off of the foam cup with his thumb and set it down on the flatbed. Engineer then tore open a few packets of sugar and poured the sweet powder into the tea, stirred it with his straw, and took an experimental sip.

He shrugged and tossed the straw and lid further in toward the cab.

Scout sipped his soda through the straw and watched the man lean against the tailgate before setting his own drink down and digging into the bag of food. “I’m starvin’,” he commented simply as he retrieved a burger. Engineer let a puff of air escape through his nose, chuckling silently. Damn thing looked thicker than the boy’s arm, but Scout was undeterred. He pulled the wrapper down halfway and took a big bite out of it, then leaned back to prop himself up on one arm. A hum of satisfaction escaped his throat.

“Man, that’s good,” he said, mouth full. “I missed this.”

“What, you don’t like my cookin’?” Engineer said, feigning hurt feelings. Scout rolled his eyes and swallowed his food.

“Did I say that? Jeez. Sometimes ya’ just want somethin’ junky, y’know? Like a big, fat, greasy burger.” He held it up as if presenting it, then moved it to his mouth for another bite. There was some more less-than-polite chewing, and he swallowed again. “I don’t get to leave base much no more. I ain’t had fast food in a while.”

Scout looked back toward town, fixated by the twinkling lights of street lamps and cars slowly moving in the distance. A nice breeze blew across them, and Engineer was suddenly feeling nostalgic again. He took another sip of tea, trying to ignore the watered-down taste. 

“Can’t ya’ drive?”

Scout shook his head, pulling the wrapper down further and going in for another bite. Engineer frowned.

“Ya’ mama didn’t teach ya’?”

“She didn’t have time,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Ma was always workin’ at least two jobs.”

“And your brothers?”

Scout’s chewing slowed and he slumped a bit at that.

“They didn’t wanna.”

“Mm.”

The older man rocked his cup of tea gently, staring down into it and listening to the ice cubes slosh and clack together. He was beginning to get a better idea of how things had played out for Scout, and the picture was slowly getting clearer. He didn’t have a father figure, his mama was always busy, and his brothers didn’t seem to want much to do with him.

Yet, going off of what he’d been told the day Engineer was sick in bed and Scout had cleaned the room up for him, he was still expected to make time for them.

Seven other brothers, all older than him.

Engineer had seen some damn big families before; a man and a woman getting together and just not knowing when to quit were as common as day, especially in the South. But he’d never seen so many kids to just one parent, and no doubt Scout’s mother had a hard time providing. It wouldn’t be at all surprising to find out that Scout was given nothing but hand-me-downs and leftovers, all broken toys and ratty, old clothes. Usually the youngest was spoiled rotten, but.

Seven other boys, all running around and screaming their heads off. All needing to be clothed, fed, and schooled.

And just one woman, on her own to raise them.

By the time Scout came along, there was no room for him to be there in the first place. There was no time for hugs and kisses, no time to teach him how to ride a bike or drive a car. The other kids probably had an ‘every man for himself’ mentality and figured Scout would simply follow suit.

Engineer watched the boy push the last of his burger into his mouth and crush the wrapper between his hands.

Shit, he thought to himself. No wonder he talked so loud.

No wonder he was practically starved for attention and demanded it. No wonder he didn’t like authority, and of course he’d glued himself to Engineer’s side.

He was lonely.

The Texan scratched along his jawline and mulled over the conclusions he’d just come to, barely noticing the loud crinkling of the paper bag next to him as Scout dove back in to retrieve his french fries. Maybe the kid saw him as a father figure of sorts. It made good sense, at least in his mind, and as much as he’d hate to admit it, he was starting to feel a tad protective of the boy.

He was certainly old enough to be his father, much to Engineer’s perturbation, and Scout could definitely benefit from having a positive older, male figure in his life, even if he was already in his twenties. Engineer lowered himself to support his weight on his elbows. He looked to Scout, who seemed to sense the older man’s gaze on him, and looked back just as he popped a fry into his mouth.

“Want me to teach ya’ to drive?”

Scout nearly choked.

“S-Seriously?”

Engineer smiled and nodded, and Scout looked way too eager and past the point of calming down.

“Then yeah! Hell yeah, when can we start? Right now? I’m ready!”

“Hold your horses, son.” Engineer raised a hand to at least try to stifle some of the Scout’s excitement. “It’s too dark out to start right now.”

“So then, tomorrow?”

Engineer cursed inwardly and pushed himself off of the tailgate. He straightened and took a long swig of his tea. He wasn’t too happy at the prospect of devoting who knows how many hours of his weekend to teaching Scout how to drive, but then again, would he have enough patience to do it after a hard day of fighting and getting shot at? 

Most likely not.

“Yeah... Tomorrow.”

“Alright!” Scout exclaimed through a fit of giddy laughter and popped the straw of his soda into his mouth. He took short, little sips with a smile, then gulped and hopped down. “Man, this’ll be great. About damn time, too. Man, I’m gonna drive everywhere. Hey!” He turned to face Engineer. “You better hurry up an’ get that old piece ‘a junk fixed, ‘cus you probably ain’t gonna see this thing no more once I can drive it.” He jutted a thumb back at the red pickup behind them.

The man laughed, admittedly charmed by Scout’s enthusiasm.

“Ain’t ya’ got any money saved up? You should buy your own damn car.”

Scout conveniently chose not to answer that and decided to continue rambling about all the places he was going to drive to. Engineer shook his head and finished off his tea. He’d let the boy have his moment. He only hoped he’d be a good teacher to him. Engineer had no kids of his own and the only other person he’d consider to be like a child was Pyro, and they certainly had no interest in learning how to drive or fix up trucks.

  
With the truck parked safely back in the garage and the trash from their food thrown away, Engineer and Scout walked to the front entrance of RED’s main building and stepped inside. Engineer paused at the door to kick his boots against the threshold, knocking off most of the dirt that clung to the soles off to avoid tracking it all in, but Scout didn’t have such manners. The younger mercenary all but ran inside with a wide grin plastered on his face. A few of their teammates were in the front room, and all eyes moved to the two of them as they walked in. Demoman shifted to sit up a bit more properly on the couch, fingers wrapped around the neck of his favorite bottle of booze. 

“Where did the both of ya’ skitter off too?”

“Had to get some new tires for that truck I’m fixin’ up.”

Engineer shut the door behind him and watched as Scout went right for the fridge in the other room. “What the hell, son? Ya’ just ate.”

“Shut up, I’m still thirsty!”

Sure enough, the boy pulled a can of soda from the door of the refrigerator. He cracked it open and took a few hearty gulps, then lowered the can with a satisfied breath of air. Engineer shook his head.

“Gonna rot all your teeth out.”

He knew Scout had heard him because the kid looked right at him when he’d said it, but the other chose not to respond and instead took another sip. Engineer was tempted to tell him to at least brush his teeth, but that would definitely be going too far and just embarrass the poor kid. Demoman looked between the two of them, moving an arm up to rest on the back of the couch.

“Oh, aye. You two workin’ on it together, then?”

“Sorta,” Scout answered somewhat apprehensively. Engineer quirked a brow.

“Didn’t take you for the type to know much about that stuff, lad.”

“Yeah? Well. I know about a lot of stuff. You guys just don’t ever ask.”

“Oh?” Demoman leaned back into the couch with a smug grin. He looked like the cat that just caught the mouse. “What’s the make o’ the thing then? I been dyin’ ta’ know.”

All eyes were on Scout, who stiffened and held an expression similar to an elementary student under the spotlight of his first school play. Engineer put a hand to his side. He’d already showed his little project to the demolitions expert before when he first hauled it back to base. Demo had no real interest in it, but he cared enough to listen and offer his help at the time.

Scout fidgeted for a moment, then meekly answered: “Hudson.”

Engineer grinned, honestly glad that Scout remembered something so simple, but Demoman could hear that nervousness and wasn’t at all discouraged. “Hudson, ey? How about the year, then?”

The corners of Engineer’s mouth took a dive, and he looked back to Scout. He hadn’t told him that, yet. The boy lowered his can of soda down a bit and played with the tab. It was clear he was thinking, trying to formulate an educated guess. “Uh,” he began with a slight crack in his voice. “1965?”

Wrong.

Demoman didn’t even bother trying to hold back his laughter. The man slapped his thigh and guffawed, his one eye screwing shut. Engineer felt his own cheeks heat up sympathetically for Scout, who was far redder in the face than he. From the other end of the couch, Soldier and Spy snickered. Engineer’s eyes narrowed.

“Dunno why you’re over there gigglin’, spook. Couldn’t even keep count of all the times you came and got me to change the oil in your Ferrari.”

And just like that, the room’s attention was diverted onto Spy. Demoman sputtered and began his laughter anew, pointing a shaky finger at the Frenchman. “Bloody hell Spy, ye can’t even change your oil?”

Spy did not look the least bit amused, which only fueled the Engineer’s own jubilation. “I reckon he knows how, he just doesn’t wanna dirty his dainty, little hands with the stuff,” the Texan offered. The laughter was deafening and Spy remained seated stiffly as Demo and Soldier clapped their hands onto either of his shoulders teasingly. Engineer looked over to Scout, who merely smiled back at him. Before he could be asked anything else, the boy finished his soda, tossed the can into the garbage, and retreated down the hall to his room. Engineer hummed thoughtfully to himself with a slight frown. He supposed he’d put the tires on himself later.

Once all the noise had died down and Spy was thoroughly agitated, Engineer moved to grab himself a bottle of water from the same place Scout had gotten his soda. He swung the refrigerator door closed with a thud and unscrewed the cap. Demoman stood and took careful steps over to him. Engineer heard the man take a swig of his booze before plopping himself down into a chair against the wall. The Texan spared him a glance as he drank his water, noting that Demo looked more serious than he most likely needed to.

“The lad ain’t botherin’ you, is he?”

Engineer squinted behind his goggles, then slowly shook his head. “No, not at all. Why?” He watched Demo rub the side of his neck before slumping back against the wall. He raised his bottle to rest it on his knee, and Engineer wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep then and there, judging from his sluggish appearance.

“The boy seems a bit off, lately. Dinnae understand it myself, but I have been seein’ him walkin’ to and fro’ around your workshop.”

Engineer suddenly felt under pressure, for some strange reason. Was it already that obvious to everyone else? Scout had only come to visit him twice. “He hasn’t been around that much,” he clarified and turned to face away from Demo. He heard the man hum.

“Aye, but he’s been pacin’. Back and forth between your side of things and his room, lookin’ like a teenager about to ask some lass he fancies out to a dance.”

He had nothing to say to that one; it left him feeling just as shocked as Demo probably was upon witnessing it. The Scot took a long, thoughtful drink of his liquor before setting the bottle down on the floor. “Never seen him do that before. Usually, the lad hangs around the rec room for an hour or two, carryin’ on about whatever’s on the tele’, then locks himself up in his room until mornin’.”

“He’s just wantin’ to know more about workin’ in automotives.” Engineer hoped he hadn’t said that too quickly. He scratched behind his ear and allowed himself a short pause before elaborating. “He wants to get into that trade, once he’s done with RED an’ all.”

Demoman was more observant than most would probably assume. The man hummed again and laced his fingers over his gut with a contemplative expression. “Oh? Always thought the boy would wanna go into sports.”

Engineer wanted to smack himself. Why was he even trying to throw Demo off of the scent? It’s not like there was anything to hide. Well, except for the mutual confidentiality that he and Scout had sworn themselves to earlier; but even that was surely nothing to worry about.

Engineer threw a glance to the entryway and pulled up a chair for himself. He took a seat directly in front of Demo, and when the Texan clasped a hand onto a knee and leaned forward, Demo responded in kind and moved closer. Engineer seemed unsure for a moment, as if what he had to say just couldn’t be expressed with mere words. Demo’s one eye twitched, speculative and keen. Engineer cleared his throat and raised a hand.

“The kid needs a father figure.”

Demoman straightened some and looked at the shorter man incredulously, which only made the Engineer shake his head and gestured for him to lower himself back down to his level. “Don’t look at me like that, I know what I said.”

“Aye, I heard ye just fine, but. What the bloody hell d’ya mean by it?”

“What else could I possibly mean by it? You really think Spy’s gonna up and start carin’ about that boy’s feelin’s?”

“Well. No, not exactly.” Demo scratched his temple and tore his gaze away to stare at the ceiling for a moment, then turned his attention back to Engineer with a scrupulous look. “Are ye sayin’ you do?”

Engineer had to mentally coax himself into breathing again. The question was loaded, at least in his mind, and he wasn’t sure what kind of answer he should give the other. Demo was not a bad man, not to his understanding. Sure, there were some minute slurs tossed around on the battlefield here and there, but they were always directed at an enemy that was giving him a particularly tough time. Engineer was guilty of the same thing; the stresses of fighting in such an inane war could pull all sorts of colorful language from even the most even-tempered man. 

No, Demoman wasn’t like the Soldier, who was as stubborn and conservative as any Southern-born, gate-keeping hayseed he’d had the displeasure of sharing space with. Surely there was no hidden meaning to the other’s question. 

Engineer straightened his posture, praying to whatever god was listening that he was right about the man in front of him and that he appeared as confident as he hoped.

“I do.”

Demo nodded, and then he shrugged and leaned away from the shorter male. “Fair enough.” Engineer felt himself relax instantly.

“I like the lad, too. He can really cause a stir and whip up trouble, but --- and oh lordy, the mouth on ‘im,” Demo raised a hand to his face, covering it almost shamefully. “It’s like the boy doesn’t know when ta’ shut his damn gob.”

Engineer offered a half-hearted chuckle, and Demo lowered his hand back down to his lap.

“But aye, he’s a good kid, and a right fire-cracker if I ever saw one. I should give ye some praise, takin’ him under your wing an’ all. Can’t be easy.”

Demoman grabbed and raised his bottle to the Engineer in a toast, then tipped it back to his lips and took the last few gulps that were left inside it. The shorter man allowed himself a tepid little smile before slackening his posture. 

“Just don’t tell nobody, partner.” Demo quirked a brow, and Engineer shook his head. “It’ll just be more fodder for the cannons if ya’ catch my drift.”

Demoman nodded once, careful and heeding.

“Aye, I understand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might not be able to post for the next couple of days, as a winter storm is gonna be moving through my state and is expected to bring freezing rain and snow. My state isn't used to that kind of weather, and power outages are expected to happen. Thank you all so much for understanding and reading.


	9. Guilty

Scout would have stayed to bask in Spy’s humiliation, but he was admittedly pretty tired from everything he’d done that evening. Normally, he wouldn’t have been tired at all; he’d still be pretty restless and ready to argue for his right to hog the television for a few hours, or maybe he would have been outside for a short jog since evenings were the only time he could do that without getting dehydrated in less than twenty minutes.

He had other things on his mind, though.

Scout slipped into his room and pressed his back against the door to close it, and he merely stood there for a few seconds, just long enough to let a small piece of what had happened that night roll over his thoughts. When he blinked and pulled himself out of the memory, he kicked his shoes off into the corner and made a straight line for his bed. He looked to his window first, then let himself fall forward onto his stomach, bouncing against the springy mattress.

_Engie forgot to put in the fly screen._

Scout sucked on the corner of his upper lip before turning onto his back. Both hands moved to drum idly against his flat stomach. _I’ll remind him later,_ he thought. Never mind that he would probably forget as soon as he woke up in the morning. He stopped his light drumming and began to rub along the clothed section of torso, and his eyes drifted to a close.

Soon his fingers were underneath his shirt, and his breathing settled into a slow, nervous rhythm. He wasn’t too happy with how hard his heart was beating, and he especially didn’t like how it was strong enough to cause his lithe frame to shake slightly with each thump. His brows furrowed, and he cracked his eyes to stare wistfully at the ceiling.

_Stupid._

The word ran laps in his skull, and it rattled around his consciousness in such a way that it managed to make his eyes burn. Asking Engineer if he’d ever ‘thought about other guys’ was probably the dumbest thing he could have ever done, at least in his mind, and he was reeling from it. Scout pressed the tips of his fingers just a bit harder against his stomach, and his hands weren’t cold, but the contrast of the hot skin underneath was enough to fool him, if only briefly.

_Why am I even feelin’ like this? It’s so stupid._

It felt like something had squeezed at his heart. It was uncomfortable enough to make him sit up and change positions on his bed. He let his head fall back onto his pillow and arched his back off of the mattress so he could pull the blanket out from underneath him. He dropped, and when the expanse of warm fabric gently fell and shaped itself to his form, he found himself shifting uncomfortably again.

_I didn’t even wanna be around him before. Didn’t wanna have to miss fightin’ to look after him._

He squinted and frowned at the guilty twinge he felt, fingers fumbling to undo his belt. He heard the buckle clink softly before he slipped his hand out from under the cover and dropped the belt onto his floor. The hand quickly rejoined his other and went to work on his pants. He unclasped the button but didn’t bother with the zipper, instead simply tugging them and his boxers down from his waist to his knees.

And then his hands were at his sides with no clear path in the young man’s mind.

 _He’s way older,_ he tried to reason with himself. _Probably too old, right? Like, people would like at that and think it’s creepy, right?_

His hands were back on his stomach, though they merely lay there, still and unprovoking. Scout fixed a knot in the wood of his ceiling with a stare, and for a while, he didn’t even blink.

_He was probably just lyin’ to make me feel better._

He sighed, eyes lidded halfway to form a disappointed expression. Even though he already knew what he was referring to, he didn’t want to elaborate it to himself any further. His ring finger rubbed worried, little circles against his skin before he turned onto his side and leaned over the edge of his bed. His hand reached for a box of assorted magazines underneath, but when he’d tugged it out and halfway into view, his gaze fell onto the smiling, winking face of _Miss June 1970_ , and he suddenly felt his gut twist into a knot.

He shoved the box back underneath the bed with enough force that he heard it thump against the wall, then turned onto his back once again. His fingers flexed at his sides sheepishly before he moved his hands to his thighs, where they rubbed and tightened to grasp at hot, thick mounds of flesh. There was a dull pang between his legs, a soft ache that made him press deeper into his mattress with a weary sigh as blood rushed south.

 _It’s stupid,_ he repeated, but he didn’t stop himself from ghosting his fingertips along the more sensitive areas of his body. Scout’s eyes fluttered to a close as he wrapped his fingers around a certain pillar of flesh. He tugged, and it took more concentration than it normally should have, but it was hard to focus with the lump in his throat. Thinking of Engineer helped, so long as he made the effort to detach any feelings of guilt or shame from his own warped perceptions.

A crooked smile, a thick Southern drawl, a deep and raspy voice.

Scout flipped onto his other side to face the wall, eyes shut tight with twitching lids. His mouth was pressed into a thin frown, but his cheeks tinted themselves red. He steadied his hand and decided on a slower pace of gentle squeezes and tugs.

A strong, wide frame. Big, well-built hands, one warm and calloused from all sorts of hard work. Amiable, yet secretive. Helpful, but reluctant to receive any for himself; guarded and friendly, all at the same time.

Scout’s face twisted into one of frustration as a wide variety of feelings soaked his thoughts. He shook his head tightly, and subconsciously, his hand began to move faster up and down along himself, twisting his grip near the top.

And it was so stupid, getting some childish crush on someone he worked with, someone who was much older than he was, someone of the same sex as himself. Because nothing could come of it. There was nowhere for it to go, and it’d just remain trapped in his chest where it would fester and writhe dismally until it became nothing more than a repressed memory, like a bird dead from the misery of being stuck in a cage.

Something squeezed at his heart again, and Scout gulped in an attempt to stifle it. His free hand roamed along his thigh and up all the way to his chest, and the way the heel of his palm brushed against one of the rosy, little buds there made his breath hitch.

It was stupid and pointless and it would never go anywhere, but Scout’s entire body still tensed.

He still drew in a sharp, desperate breath of air, gasping defeatedly as he shuddered and rode out the droning waves of his climax.

And for the longest time, he just laid there, his breathing slowly but surely leveling out and settling into a calm and even pattern once again. His face no longer showed any signs of frustration or pleasure. Instead, he merely looked exhausted as he set a glossy stare onto his wall.

He didn’t want to think about what he’d just done and what all he was still feeling from it. The only thing that made it easier to manage was angling himself to press his face further into his pillow and out of view because even the room he was in felt as if it were silently judging him.

Sleep was easily achieved, but it wasn’t at all restful.

Engineer groaned when a hand shook him awake.

A few weeks ago, he would have jolted and sent a fist toward whoever dared to wake him up before his alarm did. Luckily, Scout dodged it then and was still on guard each time since. He twisted and sat up with a crackling stretch, then pressed his finger against the inside corner of his eye and rubbed the sleep from it. Scout was fumbling with the man’s alarm clock, shaking it much harder than Engineer was comfortable with, and listening to the loose parts inside jostle around. He watched the boy finally press down on the biggest button on the damn thing before it beeped pathetically. The backlight that illuminated the face of the clock turned off, and Scout set it back down onto the table.

“Just get a new one, hardhat.”

Engineer swung his legs over the edge of his cot and stretched again. The man shook his head.

“I’ll fix it.”

Scout tsk’d and pocketed his hands.

“Said that a couple ‘a weeks ago.”

Engineer huffed out a tired chuckle and finally stood. The clock was old and he’d had it for some years, so it made sense that it was finally ready to kick the bucket. Of course, he didn’t really notice until he woke up one morning half an hour late with Soldier screaming at him to get his ‘lazy, good-for-nothing ass up.’ The rest of the team had stood in the doorway and watched the display, all ready to go with weapons in hand. Scout seemed to have decided to take it upon himself to make sure Engineer didn’t sleep in again, and as embarrassing as it was at first, the man was grateful.

It sure beats being screamed awake by Soldier.

Scout took his finger and pushed a stray screw along the worktable with an engrossed expression, then turned on his heel toward the door. “You gonna cook breakfast, or should I get Sniper on it?”

Engineer shook his head and rubbed his neck. “I’ll get to it, just tell ‘em to gimme a few minutes.”

“A’ight,” the Scout said dubiously before looking over to the truck, which sat at the back of the workshop. He seemed to admire the new coat of deep, cherry red paint they’d put on it just a few days prior, but just as Engineer finally stood, the younger man fixed him with a pointed look.

“Hey, let’s take a break from the truck, yeah?”

Engineer raised his brows at the statement, which earned a shrug from Scout. “You been workin’ too hard on it, y’know? You should, like. I dunno. Fix your stupid alarm clock instead.”

“You gettin’ bored of helpin’ me fix the old girl up?” Engineer asked with a grin, which only served to broaden at the Scout’s nervous stammering.

“Uh, did I freakin’ say that? Sheesh, man. Stop tryin’ to turn my words around on me.”

Engineer laughed and moved to open the door of his supply closet - which also doubled as his regular closet. He stepped inside and Scout could hear the sound of metal coat hangers sliding and knocking against one another as the man got dressed. The boy diverted his gaze back to the screw on the table despite not even being able to see the Texan.

“I guess you’re right,” Engineer said admittedly as he got dressed. “I’m gettin’ too caught up on one thing again, ain’t I?”

“Yeah,” Scout agreed absent-mindedly before shifting his tone into one of stronger affirmation. Engineer had been staying up later and eating a bit less. “Yeah! You are, and hey! I ain’t gonna stay behind and take care of ya’ if you get sick again!”

“Well, it weren’t me who asked ya’ to in the first place.” Engineer stepped out of the closet, fully dressed in his usual attire. He also still wore that amused grin, and as he shut the door behind him, Scout’s arms were raised and outstretched toward him; he looked at Engineer as if what he’d just said was inconceivable.

“I cannot believe you. I took care of you outta the goodness ‘a my own heart. I was nothin’ but thoughtful and considerate, and that’s how you’re gonna talk about my act of kindness?”

“Scout,” Engineer had begun laughing again, a bit harder than before. “You just said ya’ wouldn’t do it again.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And, I think that alludes to the authenticity of your already dubious benevolence.”

Scout blew a long, exaggerated raspberry and turned to practically stomp up the stairs up to the door. “You’re usin’ fancy words now, so I’m just gonna leave ya’ down here all alone with ya’ big, stupid brain.” He paused at the door and turned to point a demanding finger at the Engineer. “And I want pancakes again, with blueberries in ‘em.”

The door was slammed shut, and Engineer could only snicker in response as he tried to remember whether or not he’d even bought blueberries.

Scout hadn’t brought the night they went to buy new tires up at all since it happened, and Engineer was thankful for that. It was already going on a month since then, and he only gave the younger mercenary driving lessons on the weekends. Pyro came along for a few of them, just to sit between the other two and point out any wild animal they’d seen with excited mumbles and gasps.

Scout wasn’t a bad driver, but he did have a bit of an issue with focus. That wasn’t really surprising, but Engineer probably lost a couple of years off of his life when the boy damn near crashed into a boulder on the side of the road one day. He’d been talking about something that happened during battle earlier that week when he started to slowly veer off the road, and Engineer’s hand flew to the steering wheel to keep the truck straight. Scout looked sheepish, maybe even ashamed, but the look was quickly done away with when Engineer patted him on the back and waved a hand for him to keep going.

And sure, he had trouble with shifting gears. They’d stall every now and then, and the kid would mutter some sort of embarrassed apology as he tugged the gear shift around before finally remembering what Engineer had instructed him to do and getting them on the move again. All in all, it didn’t take long for Scout to get the hang of it, and after some time, Engineer was confident enough in the other’s ability that he could sit back without keeping one hand clutched to his seat belt and the other ready to grab at the wheel again, just in case.

Weekdays were spent on the _Hudson_ , and Scout did very little in that department. All that really mattered to Engineer was that he helped when it was asked of him and that he followed his rules for being there, and Scout did these just fine with very little issue. It had already gotten to the point where Engineer was used Scout to be there every evening. The boy even remembered to knock, but Engineer no longer cared if he did or not. Scout’s presence wasn’t startling or undesired anymore. It was expected, and a welcomed addition to his daily routine.

The Texan cleared his throat and wiped the sweat off his brow, hunkered down behind his sentry gun and tightening a loose bolt. Pyro stood behind him, flamethrower raised and ready for any oncoming danger that might have threatened harm to the man.

“Thanks, partner.” Engineer grunted at the last twist of his wrench, then grabbed his shotgun and stood. “That should do it. Damn spy has me singled out today.”

Pyro nodded and seemed reluctant to leave, but Engineer offered them a smiled and nodded his head in the direction the rest of their team was in. “Go on, then. I’m sure Medic could use ya’ up there.”

With a thankful huff, Pyro lifted their flamethrower higher and took their leave, practically skipping as they did. Engineer watched until they were out of view, then moved to begin work on upgrading the teleporter.

These long stretches of nothing but area defense weren’t exactly his favorite part of the job. He would’ve rather been up ahead with everyone else, but he didn’t want to be responsible for some BLU sneaking around and back-capping without any resistance. So, he lowered himself down onto one knee and fiddled with his machines, listening for anything that seemed suspicious. He kept the radio turned down in moments like these, but he could hear his team’s voices call out to each other over the warbled frequencies fine enough should he be needed.

Well-practiced hands went about the familiar motions of rewiring the complex machinery in front of him, and the pitch of its low whir only changed once he neared the completion of his task.

The sound of a bottle breaking caught his attention, however, and he turned to see a BLU spy fall to the ground in a slump. Behind the body stood Demoman, who looked dejectedly at the last drop of liquor that dripped from a shard of broken glass. “You’re usually so attentive to your surroundings, laddie.”

Engineer smiled and shrugged simply.

“Thanks.”

“Was nothing.”

Demo kicked the spy’s limp body out of his way to grab onto a crate and pull it toward himself. He took a seat next to the dispenser and let his arm rest on his leg as the machine healed a sizable gash in his limb. Engineer stood and dusted his knees. “Medic too busy to get to ya’?”

“Aye, had ta’ walk all the way back here in such a sorry state.”

“Well, ya’ made it.”

Demo chuckled and nodded. Engineer watched as the man flexed his fingers under the warm beam of medicine. “How’s the little bunny rabbit?”

Engineer’s eyebrows shot up in confusion and Demoman laughed. “The Scout, lad. The Scout.”

“I don’t think he’d be too happy to hear you callin’ him that,” the Texan advised good-naturedly with a chuckle. Demo’s smile never waned, but he did raise his good arm to gesture dismissively at the comment.

“Oh? Suits him just fine; he’s always scamperin’ and hoppin’ about.”

“Sure, but ‘bunny rabbit’ might make him think you’re paintin’ ‘im as weak or somethin’, don’t ‘cha think?”

A look of realization settled onto the Scotsman’s features before he shrugged and laughed it off. “Ahh, I’ve already got it in me head, now. Can’t be bothered to think up somethin’ else.”

“Ya’ might do, when he gives ya’ an earful about it later.”

The two chortled at the thought. Demoman clenched his hand into a tight first before moving to stand. He flexed his arm, then grabbed his grenade launcher from where he’d leaned it against the crate and held it sluggishly at his side.

“How’s it goin’ up ahead?”

“Ach... Might wanna stay ‘ere a bit longer. I don’t think this one’s in our favor.”

Engineer mumbled a disappointed curse, and the other man patted him on the shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

“Ye’ got any plans for the weekend?”

He could have sworn something dropped into the pit of his stomach when Demo asked him that. The Engineer stared up at the other before he leaned against the nearest stable object and folded his arms. “Why d’ya’ ask?”

“Well, I know you’ve been teachin’ the kid ta’ drive ‘n all.” Demoman’s chipper attitude seemed to falter a bit when Engineer’s smile didn’t return. He raised his free hand to tug gently at his earlobe, which only seemed to perplex the shorter male. “I was just set ta’ ask if you would mind lettin’ me use the truck, is all.”

Engineer’s expression softened, and Demoman almost breathed a sigh of relief when the man’s smile returned. “Shoot, could’a just asked me that first. ‘Course you can, but. Oh. Wait.” The Texan raised a hand to point at Demo, who tensed just slightly under Engineer’s gaze. “You ain’t gonna be drivin’ around drunk, are ya’?”

Demoman looked offended, but it was fairly easy to tell it was in jest. “Bloody hell, man. Do ye really think I’d go about drivin’ while I’m pure blootered?”

“You’ve done it before.”

Demo’s face was easy to read, and it was clear that a certain memory made itself very well known in the forefront of his mind before he waved a hand in front of his face as if that would dispel it.

“Aye, but those were different circumstances.”

Engineer watched as the Scot grinned and hoisted his grenade launcher higher with both hands. “So come Saturday night I can expect the keys?”

“Sure, but.” Engineer stopped himself to rub the back of his neck. “Mind if I ask where you’ll be headed to? The engine’s been makin’ some funny noises...”

“Just a wee town not even an hour away. I’m sure she can handle that.”

Engineer took another moment to think over the request. It was the team’s shared vehicle, but he was the one that took responsibility for it. He did all the repairs, all the maintenance, and most of the errands in it. Not to mention Scout’s driving lessons, but the boy was in fine shape when it came down to that department. He was sure the younger man wouldn’t mind skipping one weekend to let Demoman go off and do whatever it was he needed to.

Well, he’d already told the man ‘sure.’

“Couldn’t hurt it.”

“Thanks, mate.” Demoman flashed him a cheesy grin before turning and walking away. He called back to Engineer without even looking over his shoulder. “And don’t worry, I’ll bring ‘er back without a scratch.”

Somehow, Engineer doubted that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments and well-wishes. So far, things are fine here. It's just way colder than I am used to, haha. But since the worst of the storm is passed and my area hasn't lost power, I should be able to keep writing.


	10. Sitting at the Window

“Demo’s takin’ the truck this weekend?”

Engineer nodded from his worktable while he dug around inside his broken alarm clock. Scout sat backward in the good ol’ plastic chair beside him. He'd been watching the older man work, but his attention was diverted to Engineer’s face when he was told the news. The clock rattled pitifully when it was turned over just long enough for Engineer to check the face.

“Yep. Says he’s takin’ it to some town an hour away.”

Engineer couldn’t see Scout, but he could practically feel the disappointment radiate off of the younger male from his side. Scout had a way of letting anything he was feeling be known, even before he’d managed to get a word out about it, and to his surprise, the boy had yet to say anything.

Scout merely rested his chin on the back of the chair and bounced a leg anxiously. He was torn between acting fussy and giving Engineer the cold shoulder. Either way, he’d look childish as hell, and even he could see how that wouldn’t do him any favors, so he instead opted for leaning back and huffing.

“Damn, guess I ain’t gettin’ any lessons, then.”

“Ah, you’re fine. I think you’re plenty road-ready, now.”

Scout perked up a bit at that. “Really?”

Engineer nodded with a small smile and twisted a screwdriver inside the clock. Scout tapped his fingers against the plastic chair, only to slump and feel his excitement wane a bit. He still wanted at least one more driving lesson with the man, as much as he tried to deny it. He cleared his throat. “So, what happens next then? Do I just go get my license?”

“Well, er.” Engineer paused his tinkering and tipped his hardhat up. He tugged his goggles down to let them hang around his neck, then raised his flesh hand to rub just underneath his eye. “Ya’ gotta read over a manual, first. Study it. Then you go up to the DMV and take a test.” Scout’s frown grew deeper and deeper with each word. Engineer cleared his throat. “And if ya’ pass the test, you get a permit.”

“A... permit.”

“M’hm.”

“The hell is that?”

Engineer grunted and scratched the back of his neck. He felt like he was letting Scout down or something, even though this was just the damn law and not at all his fault. Sure, he could have brought it up earlier, but he didn’t think about it at the time, so he was going to use that as his excuse.

“It’s, uh. It’s a little card,” he held his hands up and made a rectangle with his thumbs and index fingers. Scout squinted. “And it says you can legally drive around... As long as ya’ got a licensed driver sittin’ in the car with ya’.”

Silence.

Engineer was nervous when Scout’s expression didn’t change, not even a little. Not a single muscle in the other’s face even twitched. It felt like an eternity before Scout finally smacked his hand against his forehead, only to thrust it out toward Engineer, palm up.

“What tha’ hell, man?! I been doin’ that for _weeks_ already, and now you’re tellin’ me I gotta _study_ , and take a freakin’ _**test**_ , just so I can keep doin’ it?!”

“It’ll only be for a little while, maybe just a week,” Engineer muttered swiftly, then set himself back to work on his clock. “More or less, I ain’t too sure how it works in New Mexico.”

“What---? Why the hell is it different from any other stupid state?!”

“Well, ‘cus it’s the _United_ States, son,” Engineer tried to joke light-heartedly. He took a chance at looking to Scout again with a smile, only to see the boy’s face had indeed formed an even deeper scowl than before. The Texan’s smile dropped instantly, and he went right back to tinkering.

“That’s stupid, Engie. Real freakin’ stupid.”

The man only nodded. Again, it wasn’t his damn fault, but he knew Scout wasn’t fussing _at_ him, or at least he hoped so. He just needed a few more minutes to settle into the idea and get used to the new obstacle. Scout would huff and puff and maybe even throw a fit at first, but he’d quickly simmer down and come to terms with it. Engineer had learned that much more about the younger man since they started spending more time together.

Sure enough, he heard Scout sigh and drop his chin onto the back of the chair again.

“What kinda test is it gonna be?” Scout asked grumpily.

“It’ll just ask ya’ which road signs mean what and, uh. What to do in certain situations. Stuff like that.”

“Oh. Okay, that don’t sound too bad.”

“M’hm, m’hm.”

There was a soft clicking noise and Engineer withdrew his hand and the screwdriver from inside the clock. He then placed the back cover onto it and clipped it into place. Scout watched him set the clock upright and stand to plug it into the wall. The backlight came on, and Engineer tapped a few buttons. The loud buzzing that came from it made the both of them flinch, and Engineer was quick to shut it off. The man grinned and waved a hand toward his small accomplishment. Scout leaned back and scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah. Real nice. Ya’ finally fixed it three weeks after it broke.”

“You’re too cruel, boy.”

Scout rolled his eyes and did his damn best not to smile. Instead, he reached out to the older man and snapped his fingers. “Alright, alright, alright. Now, how about that fly screen? Yeah, remember that?”

For a moment, Scout thought Engineer would whack him over the back of his head and kick him out of his workshop if the man’s face was anything to go by, but instead, he dropped the screwdriver onto the worktable and mumbled, “I plum forgot all about that.”

Scout blinked and lowered his hand to let it dangle over the back of the chair. He didn’t like that tone of voice one bit.

“Hey, it’s fine, man. I forgot about it, too.”

Engineer leaned down to grab a tape measure and hacksaw from beside the worktable. “Well, I’ll get right on it.”

Scout sat in his room in front of the window with Engineer standing just outside. All he had to do was hold the bottom half of the window frame up since there wasn’t any lock to keep it in place. Engineer had commented on how Scout’s room must have been one of the oldest in the building, or that maybe it just hadn’t been updated for whatever reason. All Scout took from it was that he’d gotten the short end of the stick, as per usual.

“Yeah, I was just puttin’ some book I swiped from the infirmary in it to keep it open, but all the freakin’ mosquitoes, man. It just wasn’t worth it.”

Engineer shook his head and held the metal frame he’d made up to the outside of the window. It slid into place with only some resistance. Good, he thought, then lowered it back down.

“They’re always bad around base since the pipes ain’t got nowhere to go but out the wall.”

“Oh, yeah?” Scout didn’t know what he was really talking about, but he was too engrossed with watching Engineer cut away excess mesh from the frame, anyway.

“Yep.” Engineer held the finished screen up to the window and rocked it side-to-side carefully. It didn’t take long for the top of it to slip into place, and Engineer struggled with the bottom for a moment before it finally clicked and stuck. Scout’s face broke out into a beaming smile, which proved to be infectious for the Texan. He patted the frame of the window and leaned against it.

“Alright, prop it up with somethin’.”

Scout grabbed some medical encyclopedia with a German title from underneath his nightstand and practically smacked it against the hardwood. He lowered the window down on top of it and Engineer merely shook his head at the mistreatment of Medic’s belongings.

He seriously doubted the man knew that Scout even had it.

“There ya’ go.” Engineer pushed himself off of the wall and knocked against the metal frame of the screen. It barely even shook. “That ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“Thanks so much, Engie,” Scout said in a hushed tone, and Engineer felt his chest swell just a bit. “Now I can get some air at night without, like, gettin’ eaten alive or somethin’.”

The two stared at each other through the mesh, and for a while, all they had to fill in the silence was the distant chirping of crickets and frogs. Scout, usually abundant with all sorts of things to say, seemed to be struggling to find any words, and Engineer was having just as tough a time, himself.

It was already evening, though early into it, and the inviting wafts of cool, dry air were beginning to pick up and roll across the arid landscape. Scout’s room was situated in the back of the building, and the only light Engineer was working with came from inside the boy’s room. It filtered out from behind Scout’s figure and through the mesh, dim and soft against Engineer’s own features, and something left the older man feeling odd and unsettled, but in a way that made it sickly enticing.

Whatever it was, Scout seemed to have felt it too; he looked enchanted and sad at the same time, and it seemed like it was taking all of his energy just to hold the smallest of smiles. His arms were folded on the window sill, and his lips were sliding against each other as he prodded his tongue around the inside of his own mouth nervously.

Scout looked desperate for Engineer to talk, almost as if something depended on it, but Engineer was too caught up in silently trying to figure out what that something could have possibly been. And then a thought crossed his mind, sneaking and worryingly so:

_Beautiful._

Engineer felt himself tense up, but he was quick to force it away so he could quickly bend down to gather up his tools. He cleared his throat and tried to ignore how loud it sounded to himself, hoping it wasn’t the same to Scout.

“Well, glad I could help.”

“Oh, uh...”

Scout was still stumbling out of the fog when the older man finally spoke. It seemed like it wasn’t what he was hoping to hear, but Engineer didn’t want to dwell on that feeling. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“I’m gonna get started on supper,” Engineer murmured as he hoisted some of the heavier tools under his arm and began walking away.

The inside of Scout’s burned at the top, and he felt heart rate kick up at the sight of Engineer’s retreating form. Once the man turned a corner and was out of sight, he leaned back and slumped into the old dining chair he’d dragged into his room. His fingertips were the last things to linger on the window sill before he finally let his arms fall to dangle at his sides. He glared at the spot where Engineer had stood as he willed the pounding in his chest to settle back into a state of calm.

_Maybe I’ll skip eatin’ tonight_ , he thought.


	11. He's Grown

When Saturday morning finally came around, Engineer was surprised to see Demoman sitting at the table in the canteen. It was damn early, around five in the morning, and no one on the team really woke up at such an hour on the weekends, but Engineer was keen on checking out the truck before Demo took it on his little expedition that evening.

At the sound of the Texan’s boots thumping against the linoleum floor, Demo leaned back in his chair and twisted to look at the man. He gave his best smile despite the tired look on his face and raised his hand in a brief greeting.

“ _Guid_ mornin’.”

“Mornin’.”

Engineer eyed the man as he walked past him and toward the refrigerator. There was nothing on the table but a single glass of water. Engineer might have tripped had he not felt himself bump gently against the counter. “You’re up mighty early.”

“Aye, could say the same for you.”

The shorter man tilted his head back and swung the fridge door open. The light inside flickered on and he scanned over the contents. Truth be told, he hadn’t planned on making breakfast just yet, but he figured he might as well go ahead since Demoman was already up. “Hope you weren’t lookin’ to get the truck early. I was gonna look her over and make sure she won’t give out on ya’ later.”

Demoman shook his head and took a long gulp of his water. He set the glass back down with a soft thud, an almost despondent look on his face. “Don’t worry, mate. I wasn’t plannin’ on leavin’ until around eight or nine.”

Engineer paused and looked over his shoulder at the man. “Bit late, don’t ya’ think?”

“Aye.”

He squinted and retrieved a carton of eggs, as well as a few other things he would need. Usually, Engineer wasn’t the type to be nosy, and he rarely found himself curious about other peoples’ going-ons, but he couldn’t seem to help the insistent inquisitiveness about Demoman’s ‘errand.’ He laid everything he’d gotten out from the refrigerator onto the counter, then moved to grab a couple of pans.

“What’s gonna be open so late and so far away that ya’ gotta get to it after dark?”

A sly smile made itself present on Demoman’s features. He chuckled groggily and slowly spun the glass of water in his hand as if it were fine brandy. Engineer quirked a brow. “Ahh, you’re a good man, Engie, but you’re a wee bit on the dreich side, aren’t ya’?”

Engineer wanted to laugh, but he wasn’t even sure what the other meant by that. Demo sensed this and decided to elaborate a bit further. He turned sideways in his seat and pointed a finger at the Texan, that smile still stuck to his lips.

“Don’t ye ever feel like goin’ outta town and havin’ a wild night o’ fun? Maybe skite off to some shady bar, meet a pretty face, get absolutely sloshed, and take ‘er to some cheap motel that’s tryin’ hard ta’ look posh?”

Engineer cracked an egg open against one of the pans. He didn’t spare the man a single glance, but he did manage to keep his friendly tone of voice as he spoke.

“So you’re callin’ me boring.”

“Aye, lad.” Demo finished off his water, then stood and gestured a hand over at Engineer. “You’re up at the crack ‘o dawn to make breakfast and meddle with an engine. You do know it’s Saturday, right?”

“You’re up early too, partner.”

Demo didn’t seem at all fazed when the shorter man pointed out the obvious. Instead, he set his empty glass not in the sink, but next to it, and the corner of Engineer’s mouth twitched. “I always get up early if I can’t drink, regardless of the day.”

“Well, I’m glad you won’t be drivin’ around at night drunk.” Engineer covered the pan with a lid, then turned and leaned against the counter with his arms folded. He fixed Demo with a stern frown and crossed one ankle over the other. “I just hope I don’t gotta clean up a mess ‘a puke outta there tomorrow when ya’ get back.”

“Bloody hell,” Demoman’s smile came back sheepish as he scratched his cheek. “I feel like I’m bein’ scolded by me mum.”

Engineer’s frown hardened.

An arm wrapped itself around his stocky shoulders as Demo laughed. The taller man patted Engineer’s arm playfully, clearly hoping to lighten his mood. It wasn’t even a second later when the other’s face lit up, and he took a step back.

“You should come with me!”

“What?”

“Aye, there’s this place I already got me sights on. Heard about it from some flashy-lookin’ bloke in town a couple ‘a weeks ago. Been dyin’ ta’ go there, but it’d be even better with a mate to tag along.”

Engineer dropped his gaze to the floor. “Flashy, huh?”

Demoman hummed in confirmation.

“What kinda place are we talkin’ about? Some kinda---”

“It’s a club,” Demo cut him off and shrugged. He supposed there was no sense in hiding it. “A disco or somethin’ like that. You pay at the door, ye get free drinks at the bar, and they’re open all night. Now, don’t that sound like a bloody good time?”

There was an uncertain mumble from Engineer before he shook his head. “I dunno. I ain’t ever been nowhere like that.”

“There’s a first time for everything. Why not give it a go?” When Engineer didn’t answer, Demoman patted his shoulder reassuringly. “I been ta’ plenty places like this before. It won’t hurt ya’ one bit.”

Engineer took a moment to think over the offer. A huge part of him did not want to go, but the more polite side of his general nature was practically nudging him in the ribs for him to go along with it. Demo was a good man, and he was just being friendly. Engineer wouldn’t call himself shy, but he was reserved. The only time he wasn’t was when he didn’t have to hang back in battle. Socially, he probably did come off as a fuddy-duddy.

“Alright. I’ll tag along.”

“There he is,” Demo said. He patted Engineer on the back once, then sucked in a breath of air and snapped his fingers. “And since you’re coming along, I can drink today! What a good deal!”

“I can still change my mind, y’know.”

He’d gotten around to checking the engine a bit later than he originally wanted, but finishing up breakfast took longer than he expected. Medic and Heavy had woken up early as well, and they stuck around to chat and eat before Engineer realized the time had gotten away from him.

Everything seemed fine, and that frustrated him to some end. What in the hell was making the noise, then? 

It was old and had been about run into the ground. Poor thing had well over 200,000 miles on it. Honestly, it was probably time to file a report on it and request a new vehicle, but Engineer was reluctant to bother either Miss Pauling or the Administrator with it.

He slipped into the driver’s seat and gave the key a turn. It cranked right away and without a single knock, which baffled him. He let his hands fall to his lap and leaned back, watching the gauges on the dash.

“Hey!”

Engineer flinched and turned his attention to the sudden noise. Scout was practically stomping over to him with a face like a wife scorned. Despite really not wanting to, Engineer shut the engine off and gave his best smile to the boy. He tipped his hardhat.

“Howdy.”

“Don’t---” He sighed. “What’s this about you goin’ off to some disco with Demo?”

His smile drooped a bit at the other’s tone, but then again, he didn’t really expect any improvement since Scout was already riled up. Engineer pulled the key from the ignition and turned his attention back to the gauges. “Where’d you hear that?”

“From Demo.” Scout crammed his hands into his pockets. “You weren’t in the shop, so I asked ‘im where you were, an’ he told me you were gettin’ the truck ready to go tonight.”

Damn it, Demo.

Engineer dared to glance at Scout. He didn’t look as pissed, but there was doubt he wasn’t at all happy.

The kid was still sort of an enigma to him. Sometimes Scout was mature and took bad news well, and sometimes he acted like a spoiled brat. There was almost no rhyme or reason to it as far as he was concerned, but he sure wished there was. He’d spend hours figuring out a pattern if he had to. Engineer leaned back and slumped against the seat, running his thumb over the key in his hand thoughtfully. 

Come to think of it...

“I know you’re upset that ya’ can’t get any drivin’ lessons, but I done told ya’ that you’re just fine without any more.”

“That ain’t the point.”

Scout’s arms stiffly folded across his chest. Engineer slipped his thumb under the strap of his goggles and swiped up, pulling them and his hat off to drop them in the passenger’s seat. “Alright, what’s the point, then?”

Scout didn’t seem to have anything for that. He simply looked down and fanned his foot from side-to-side against the dirt. He seemed to be searching for the right words, but when more time passed than Engineer was comfortable with, the Texan grinned and slung his arm over the steering wheel.

“Look, son. I know you like hangin’ around me all the time, but---”

“Shut up, man! That ain’t why I’m upset!”

“Oh?” His grin was gone in an instant. He fixed Scout with a calculated stare and nodded to him expectantly. “Why’re you upset, then?”

Scout was at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to formulate a response that didn’t make him out to be what Engineer already figured. After a while, he shifted his weight and began to idly tug at his little finger. He stared at his hands for the longest time while Engineer patiently waited before he finally spoke in a muttering voice.

“I wanna go, too.”

Engineer’s lids fluttered lightly, but he tried his best not to roll his eyes. Instead, he shook his head once. “No.”

“Wha--- Why not?”

“’Cus I don’t want ya’ there.”

Engineer immediately regretted his wording when he saw Scout’s expression twist into one of pain. He did his best not to let himself show his remorse and instead turned in the seat so he could step out of the truck. Scout moved away to give him the space to do so. “There’s gonna be a lot of strangers there. A lot of drinkin’ and who knows what else.”

“Yeah, and?”

“What if somethin’ happens?”

Scout’s brows knit together in anger. “I’ve gotten drunk with you guys before, or did you just forget that? Hell, I’ve bought Demo beer more times than I can count!”

“Yeah,” Engineer chuckled bitterly. “And each time you gotta show the clerk your I.D., ‘cus they always think you’re sixteen.”

“Will you stop jokin’ around about this shit and gimme a good reason why I can’t go with you guys?!”

Engineer sighed and slammed the door shut. He pocketed the key and moved around to the passenger’s side as Scout followed closely behind.

“You’re not easy to handle when you’re drunk, Scout.”

“Okay, fine. Whatever. That’s stupid, but. Fine, I just won’t drink.”

Another sigh escaped Engineer’s lips, though it was closer to a frustrated groan. He yanked the door open and grabbed his things, then slammed it shut again. Scout didn’t seem at all deterred by his outward displays of anger. If anything, it just served to fuel his own. When Engineer turned to walk past him, Scout stepped closer and in his way, and for the first time ever, the Texan found himself cursing the difference in height between them. Scout looked down on him with a persistent glare.

Their eyes locked and under normal circumstances, Engineer would have gladly been the first to look away, but he couldn’t dare bring himself to do it here. Before he could step around the other, Scout’s shoulders slumped and he turned his head slightly to the side with a sigh of his own.

“This is stupid,” he said.

“Damn right it is.”

“Will you just--- Look.” Scout raised his stiff hands and held them level with his chest. He struggled as he spoke, as if his words were solid and threatened to catch in his throat and choke him. “I like hangin’ out with you, okay? I really do, and I don’t really, y’know. Click with the other guys too good. They’re always either bossin’ me around, or they act like me doin’ the most simplest shit is some big deal.”

Engineer narrowed his eyes at that, seemingly confused, so Scout rubbed the back of his neck and expatiated.

“Y’know what I mean. Like, ‘oh wow, nice job breathin’, Scout. Nice job walkin’. Wow, you actually shot someone, I’m so freakin’ proud ‘a you’ and shit.” 

The boy’s arms fell to dangle at his sides before he gestured to Engineer. “You don’t... do that. Ya’ just tell me what I need to do and how, and I don’t feel like such a fuckin’ baby.”

It was so warm outside, yet Engineer felt a shudder threaten the length of his spine. He’d always assumed Scout liked the praise, no matter how pointless or benign it was. He sure lapped it up whenever it was given to him, and he even seemed to seek it out. He’d sort of come to that conclusion a few weeks ago when the knowledge of Scout’s upbringing and home life really settled in and dawned on him.

Engineer’s arms folded and he leaned against the side of the truck.

“You’re tellin’ me, with all the fuss you make about how good you are at this and that, you don’t like people pattin’ you on the back?”

Scout sneered softly at the question, and he looked genuinely offended. He seemed to choose his next words carefully, his voice flat and even as he spoke slower than normal.

“I don’t wanna be treated like a little kid.”

At first, it didn’t feel like it answered his question. If anything, it sounded like another contradiction, but looking at Scout’s face and body language seemed to give it extra meaning. The younger man stood a bit taller, a bit straighter; his hands were at his sides and gently clenched into loose fists. It was only when Engineer felt a twist in his gut and looked down that Scout relaxed his posture. 

The dirt crunched beneath his feet as he pushed himself off of the truck and rubbed the back of his shaved head. Once again, Engineer was feeling his age. Scout was an adult, but he was still young enough to be stuck awkwardly floundering about and figuring himself out who he was. Engineer had passed that phase of his life a long time ago, and he wasn’t so sure he had in him to help someone else get through it.

_Aw, shucks._

“Alright. You can come along.”

Scout didn’t look happy or excited to have finally gotten his way. Instead, he looked relieved, his face softening into a more serene expression. 

“Thank you.”


	12. He Makes Things, and Then He Fixes Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took longer than usual. I really struggled with it.
> 
> Now would probably be a good time to say that most of this story is improvised and that I only have a few ideas for it set in stone. I also don't have a beta reader, and while I always go back over what I've written to try and tidy things up, I still miss things. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading.

Engineer wasn’t even sure what to wear to a nightclub. 

It wasn’t like he had much else besides the usual things he wore for work. Sure, he’d had some other things when he came to work for RED, but at some point, they’d either gone missing or got so worn out that he had no choice but to throw them away. He looked over the pitiful selection of clothes in his closet, tightening his grip on the door. 

He was a practical man, that much was clear.

It took a while for him to settle on the only pair of jeans he had that wasn’t riddled with rips and tears and a grid button-up shirt. He’d clean and polish his boots, and that would just have to do, damn it. All that mattered to him was that he smelled nice and wasn’t covered in grease.

After cleaning them, Engineer slipped his boots on and buttoned his shirt. His stomach was uneasy, and the tightening of his belt didn’t help with that at all. He made sure his shirt was tucked in all the way around and gave himself an uncertain look in the mirror. 

I really don’t wanna go, he thought grimly to himself. He wasn’t sure when he first agreed to it, and he was one-hundred percent against the idea now, but it was much too late to get cold feet and back out, especially with Scout now going along for the ride. Engineer spent all day hoping that Demoman would change his mind or that something would come up. He hoped the man would at least object to Scout coming.

_He’ll be drunk_ , he thought. _He won’t be in the right state of mind and neither will Demo. I’ll have to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t go off and get himself into some kinda trouble. Have to make sure he doesn’t get upset and clingy with the wrong person._

That was a very real possibility. As he’d learned so many evenings ago, Scout was a sad drunk; lonely and needy. One misplaced sign of affection could land him in a world of hurt, and any sign of weakness would only make things worse. Scout was an adult, but he could only barely pass for one, and while that’s never done the younger man any favors before, it was especially unfortunate in this very situation.

Engineer rubbed his neck nervously and tried not to break out into a sweat. He tried to convince himself that he was worrying too much - and he probably was - but he couldn’t quite deny another wiry hand that had been pinching at his guilty conscious since the night he put a screen in Scout’s window.

_What if I see someone huggin’ up on him? What if he reciprocates?_

Engineer’s hand stopped, and he hated the feeling of his pulse thumping against his fingers.

_What if I get drunk and say things I ought not to him? What if I put my hands on him, and he doesn’t like it?_

_What if he does?_

Engineer turned his head away from the mirror, disgusted by his own reflection. His hand fell to his side and he turned on his heel to walk over to his cot, where his wallet and the key to the truck lay. He scooped them up and swiftly pocketed them, then made his way up the short set of stairs. His hand moved to swipe over the switch by the door, flicking the lights off, and he shut the door quietly behind him, trying his best not to think about anything else except walking and breathing.

Demoman was already outside and leaning on the side of the truck, and Engineer had honestly never seen clothes so colorful. Everything the man wore had a tint of burnt orange to it, and his shirt had some floral pattern that didn’t bother blending in the warm hues that made it pop against a black background. When the taller man spotted him, he raised his arms with a wide-set grin, and Engineer took a second to note that he wasn’t wearing his beanie. For some reason, that threw him off the most.

“There he is,” Demoman said happily. Once Engineer was in range, he slid an arm forward to give the Texan a few pats on the back. “Look at this, now.” He gestured to Engineer’s clothes. “Ye look so spiffy I’d have thought you were goin’ to file your bloody taxes.”

Engineer looked down at himself and frowned, but he wasn’t at all offended.

“That bad?”

Demoman guffawed and slapped him on the back again.

“Naw, you’re fine, mate. I’m just havin’ a bit of a laugh, forgive me.”

“I ain’t sore. I don’t got a damn thing to wear for this kind of, uh. Occasion.”

“Oh, aye?” Demo ran his hand over his chin thoughtfully as he looked Engineer over again. “If I had known, I would’ve taken ya’ into town to do a little clothes shoppin’, lad.”

“I would’ve told ya’ no,” Engineer said truthfully and shrugged. Walking around a clothing store for hours on end just to buy maybe one or two things wasn’t exactly his most favorite thing to do. He settled both of his hands on his hips and hooked his thumbs under his belt. Demoman didn’t seem bothered, in fact, his grin returned.

“Ya’ do seem like the type,” he stated simply, knowingly. Engineer nodded once, grateful that the man understood so easily, and that he also wasn’t the type to dwell. He looked around outside before leaning over to peer inside of the truck.

“Where’s...?” He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

“Oh, Scout? Little bunny scampered back inside. Said you were takin’ too long and that he had to take a leak.”

“Ah.” Engineer shifted his weight until he stood comfortably once more and watched as Demoman leaned back against the truck. The man pursed his lips and lifted his arm to glance down at the watch around his wrist. It made Engineer wonder if he really had so long to get ready, or if maybe Scout was having second thoughts of his own. Those thoughts were quickly pushed aside however when he heard light footsteps coming closer to where the two men stood.

“There ya’ are, jeez. How long’s it take you to put some freakin’ clothes on, overalls? I went lookin’ for ya’ and everything.”

Engineer couldn’t find anything to say in return unless a soft grunt counted, and the man was grateful for Demo’s good-natured laughter filling in the space for him.

Scout’s hair looked a bit tousled like he’d run his hands through it so many times to try and find a look he was comfortable with, despite having it cut and faded so short the further down it went; he’d managed to pull a bit of a fringe out of it, at least. The more muted colors he chose for his clothes were a bit unexpected, with a cream-colored turtleneck that hung loosely on his frame and was hurriedly tucked under the waist of a pair of coffee-toned corduroys. 

Engineer turned away and peered into the truck again, locking his eyes onto the gear shift. Scout narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but Demo either didn’t sense anything amiss with the atmosphere, or he simply wanted to disperse it.

“Well, we’re all here. Before we get goin’, do the both of ya’ have your wallets?”

“Yep,” Scout said, and Engineer could hear the boy pat his hand against his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said soon after, then opened the door and hopped into the driver’s seat. Demo clapped his hands together and walked around to the other side with Scout. He let the youngest in first so he could sit in the middle, much to Engineer’s dismay, before squeezing in after and slamming the door shut. 

They were packed in like sardines, but neither of them seemed to care too much. Demo dropped his arm on the top of the door panel and patted Scout’s shoulder. Engineer started the engine and began making their way past the base’s main gate.

“Ya’ ever been to a club, laddie?”

Scout was already fiddling with the radio, twisting the dial to try and find one of his three favorite stations.

“Nah, but I heard a lot about ‘em.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, a couple’a my brothers went to ‘em a lot back home. Said it was always easy to get chicks in ‘em.” 

Demo chuckled at that, and it wasn’t much longer before Scout finally found the station he wanted and leaned back against the seat again. There wasn’t really anywhere for the boy’s hands to go, so Scout settled them right onto his knees with a smack.

“’Tis a fine place to meet women, but they might be a bit wilder than you’re used to.”

Scout scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes with a skeptical smile. Engineer’s features remained fairly blank, though his lips were pressed into a tight, thin frown.

“Hey man, I can handle any kinda girl that comes my way, alright? I’ve dated plenty of ‘em, kissed plenty of ‘em, made sex with plenty of ‘em. I know what I’m doin’.”

“These aren’t girls, boyo. These are women.” Demoman pointed to Scout, tone cautious and giving warning despite the smile on his face. “They can look at ya’ for only a second and have ya’ all figured out. Every button they can possibly push and what each one’ll do.” The man paused to readjust his position, clearly trying to get more comfortable. A bump in the road jostled them a bit before Demoman continued. “I’ve fallen victim to a few she-devils me’self,” he chortled. “Not that I minded too much, o’ course.”

Scout scrunched his nose a bit and fixed the Scot with a curious stare. “What, you sayin’ they’re, like. Manipulative, or somethin’?”

“Aye, some of them are, and some of them aren’t. All depends on what they want outta ya’, and how they feel like gettin’ it.”

Scout looked away from Demo and stared ahead out the windshield. He seemed fixated on the dark ahead. It was a while before he finally asked: “You got played by a few of ‘em?”

“Oh, yes.” Demo was swift to answer, and he even sounded eager to relive the memories. “Met a fair lass once - had the biggest, prettiest brown eyes I ever saw - at a place like the one we’re headed to, now.”

“What’d she do that was so bad?”

Engineer’s frown deepened, and he cleared his throat just as Demo opened his mouth to speak again. The other two looked over at the Texan, and only Demo seemed to understand. He scratched his cheek and chuckled.

“Ah, well. That’s a tale for another time, lad.”

“Aw, what?” Scout’s head whipped back to Demoman’s position in the truck. “How am I supposed to know what to look out for?”

“You won’t,” Demo said simply, but the implication that the man’s words held sat heavily on Scout’s mind. Demo shrugged after a moment. “There’ll be other types there, too. There’s all types in these kind of places.”

“Other types ‘a women?”

“Well, not exactly. Depends on how they wanna be seen.”

Once again, Engineer felt more uncomfortable than he had in years. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he begged for some kind of scenery aside from rocks and dirt to preoccupy his mind with. Instead, he found himself zeroing in on the warmth of Scout’s thigh pressed against his own, and his stomach cramped dully.

“...You mean, like. Guys?”

Demo nodded to Scout’s question, and Scout’s voice suddenly sounded strained. “Like, those guys ya’ hear about on the news sometimes, that like dressin’ up as chicks?”

“Aye, lad. Usually, they’ll want you ta’ treat ‘em like ladies if they’re all dolled up like one, and it’s best that ya’ do. But there’ll be other men there that might take a shinin’ to ya’, as well.”

The truck grew silent for a while, nothing but the sound of the engine and the distorted music on the radio present to fill in the gap. Engineer took in a deep breath and exhaled it through his nose as quietly as he possibly could. He felt Scout’s gaze on him briefly before the boy spoke.

“Whaddya do when that happens?”

Demo shrugged again, deeper and slower than before. “Depends on what you’re feelin’, I s’pose. Usually, I just give ‘em a wee smile and politely turn ‘em down.”

“Usually...?”

The man laughed, and without even a single trace of hesitation or doubt, he said, “I’ve come across a good-lookin’ bloke once or twice and gave it a go.”

Engineer felt the muscles in Scout’s leg tense as he leaned away from Demoman. He could only imagine the look on his face.

“You... You’re...?”

“Hmm, a bit. Maybe. I can’t say for certain, to be honest. I’ve mostly had me eye trained on women, but like I said, there’s been a couple ‘o men I wouldn’t mind crossin’ paths with again.”

Scout shifted back towards the middle slowly, and Engineer could only pray that he didn’t somehow feel his heart thumping as hard as it was. This entire conversation made him feel like kicking the door open and jumping out of the truck.

“Ain’t ya’ worried, though?” Scout asked, and when Demo didn’t answer, he looked down to stare at the dashboard. “I mean, what if people see ya’ with another guy, or what if he’s playin’ a trick on ya’ so he can beat ya’ up or somethin’? What if he’s a cop, or a---”

“Look, laddie, if anyone tries throwin’ a punch at me for thinkin’ another man looks pretty, I’ll beat their bloody arse.” Demoman waved a hand dismissively at the suggestions. “I’m a grown man and I’ve been through a hell of a lot worse. Besides, what I like best about goin’ out and findin’ someone to have a night ‘o fun with isn’t dependent on what’s between their legs.”

It was Scout’s turn to go silent. Demo’s smile was back, and he held up an index finger to emphasize his words.

“We’re two fun-lovin’ souls gettin’ together, havin’ a night of blind passion, and wakin’ up to a warm body next to mine before we gotta say our good-byes.”

The Scot’s hand fell to his lap, and he shrugged yet again. “That’s all that really matters ta’ me.”

Scout still didn’t have any words for the man. He stared out into the darkness again with a pensive look on his face, and after what Engineer felt must have been a solid minute, he leaned forward to mess with the radio again.

“That was real cheesy, cyclops. Think I might throw up.”

Demo practically roared with laughter and smacked Scout on the back with a hard thud, almost sending the poor kid’s face right into the dash. Scout voiced his contempt with the action and twisted to swat the man’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

“That hurt, dumbass!”

The laughter only continued, and Engineer wanted so badly to be able to join in. He reached over Scout’s thigh and down to his knee to wrap his fingers around the gear stick, extra careful not to touch the younger man’s leg. The truck lurched as he pulled and shifted gears, and he felt his stomach do the same.

The drive was a bit longer than he figured it would be, but at least Demoman gave good directions and they didn’t have to make any stops for gas or bathroom breaks. The town was much bigger than Teufort, and Engineer had a little trouble navigating the roads with so much traffic still on them. He would have commented on how Demoman said this was a 'small town,’ but he thought better of it. Scout seemed excited to be there, and he didn’t want to risk snuffing out that enthusiasm since it might be what got him through the rest of the night.

“Take a right up here at this intersection.”

Engineer did as he was instructed, and it wasn’t even a second later that they started seeing neon signs for all kinds of bars and late-night establishments. Scout leaned forward to look over as many as possible, snickering at some of the names.

It was obvious even to Engineer when they arrived.

Demo told him to park in front of one of the most run-down buildings he’d ever seen, but it was lit up with enough multi-colored lights to let anyone know what its true purpose was. There were already so many other cars parked on the sides of the street too, and Engineer had a bit of trouble getting into a spot. There was a small crowd of people outside the door, but they were being let in quickly enough. Engineer cut the engine and dropped the key into his shirt pocket. Both doors swung open and they slipped out onto the pavement.

Engineer tried to hide the fact that his hips popped as he stretched, then shut his door right as the other did, making sure they were both locked. It was a bit windy, and Scout was fussing over his hair again until Demo placed a steadying hand on either of their shoulders and smiled.

“Ye both look like sickly, little lambs.”

Engineer and Scout looked at one another curtly before turning their attention back to Demoman, who chuckled and gave their shoulders a reassuring squeeze. They followed him to the club’s entrance, and Engineer could already faintly hear the loud music from inside. 

It wasn’t long at all before they were next to be looked over by the two men by the door. One sat behind a shabby little table with a metal box on it, and the other stood tall at what had to be over six feet. He looked down at them sternly, and Demoman reached for his wallet. Scout and Engineer were quick to follow suit.

“Me and my mates want in, lad. Just tha’ three of us. How much is your cover charge?”

“Ten dollars,” the larger man said in a dark, gravelly voice. Their eyes widened.

“Ten bucks?!” Scout exclaimed. “That’s stupid expensive!”

The man, obviously the bouncer, made an exasperated face and let his shoulders slump a bit before speaking again. “You’re paying for drinks and entertainment up front. If you don’t like it, you can go back home.”

Demoman nudged Scout’s arm with an elbow and shook his head. He was the first to fork over the money, and the bouncer held a meaty hand out for the payment. Scout rolled his eyes but shoved the money into the man’s palm as well, along with Engineer. Thick fingers closed around it, and the hand moved back to allow for the man behind the table to collect their money and drop it into the box. The bouncer’s arms folded across his chest once more, and he nodded at the door.

Just as they were about to walk through, the man behind the table stood and leaned over to jut an arm out, directly in front of Scout.

“Wait,” he said, voice shrill. “You got any I.D.?”

“You gotta be freakin’ kiddin’ me,” Scout grumbled loudly. Demoman grinned like a madman as the boy fished his wallet back out from his pocket and presented the card for the others to see. Engineer could tell that Demo was trying his damnedest not to laugh.

The two strangers looked shocked for a moment before the man behind the table cleared his throat and gestured for them to go on through.

Once they were finally inside, they were presented with a dimly lit staircase that lead them down to another door, and once that one had been opened, the full volume of the music hit Engineer like a train.

It was so damn loud, and it resonated within him each time the bass thumped and shook the walls. There were so many people - too many for him to be any kind of comfortable - and the many different smells of perfumes, colognes, alcohol, and who knew what else were enough to make his nose burn. He teetered just slightly and squinted as a strobe light flickered over his direction.

“I’m goin’ for the bar,” Demo yelled over the music. Engineer and Scout looked over to the man, leaning in to hear him better. “What’ll you two be doin’?”

“I wanna drink, too,” Scout yelled. Engineer narrowed his eyes at the back of the boy’s head. “Can I go with you?”

“Sure, laddie. You’re free to tag along.” Demo turned his attention to Engineer, along with Scout. The Texan felt stupid just blinking and looking out at the expanse of bodies moving up against one another. After deciding he didn’t want anything to do with that, he furrowed his brows and jutted his thumb back to a row of booths lined up against a wall.

“I’ll just have a seat over there,” he said, and he hated how he could barely hear himself talk. “Legs are hurtin’ from that long drive.”

Scout suddenly looked lost.

“You don’t want nothin’ to drink? I can bring ya’ somethin’.”

Engineer’s heart sank a bit. He didn’t want to ruin this for Scout. Demo would have fun regardless of what he decided to do, but Scout only wanted to come so he wouldn’t have to go a weekend without him. Engineer only wished he didn’t feel so damn good about that.

“Just bring me a beer, since you’re offerin’,” he said with a slight smile.

That seemed to settle whatever frazzled nerves Scout had. “Beer, gotcha.”

With that, Demo turned to make his way over to the bar with Scout following closely behind. Engineer watched them for a moment and tried to settle the uneasy stinging in his limbs, then finally managed to force himself over to the only empty booth he could find. The only thing that went through his head was that there were just too many people, and every single one of them was drunk off their ass and practically screaming at each other. He was a wreck on the inside, nothing but a ball of nerves that were popping off and sending warning signals to every muscle in his body.

This was a bad idea, this was a bad idea, this was a bad idea.

He squeezed through a tight clump of party-goers and finally slid into the seat he’d been eyeing ever since Demo and Scout walked off. It was vinyl or latex or some other taut material that squealed whenever he moved and fueled the headache he’d already managed to foster. He could only hope that he appeared calm and aloof on the outside because the last thing he wanted was to look like a bleeding chicken in a den full of foxes. Any attempts from strangers to make eye contact were promptly shut down. He’d look away before they could even give him a smile and set his sights in the direction of the bar as if he were waiting for a friend.

And he was, to be fair. At least he remained honest while being a stick-in-the-mud wallflower. 

If this had been some quiet, little diner on the side of a highway, he would have been perfectly fine. If it were just some shabby bar in a small town, he would be smiling and laughing and carrying on with anybody that wanted to talk to him, but it wasn’t, and he was completely out of his element. These simply just weren’t his type of people.

Engineer was more than a little relieved to finally see Scout pushing through the crowd of people with a tall glass of alcohol in each hand held high. He watched as Scout poked the tip of his tongue out the corner of his mouth and waded through the moving mass of bodies with a look of pure concentration, trying desperately not to spill anything.

When the thought finally hit him that he should have stood his ass up and given the boy some help, it was too late. Just as his hand went to grip the edge of his seat, Scout was already at the booth. He set one of the glasses down in front of the Texan - his beer, still bubbling and foamed at the top. Scout had gotten himself some bright, sunny-colored thing with an orange slice clinging to the rim of the glass, and a cherry tossed in. Engineer frowned.

“Hey, scoot over.” Scout called, and he put a hand on the shorter man’s shoulders to give him a gentle push. Engineer smiled and did as he was told, making room for the other to slip in and sit beside him. Scout fidgeted for a moment to try and get comfortable - stupid vinyl - before he finally dropped his arms onto the top of the table and leaned forward.

He looked directly at Engineer and smiled, which served to make the older man just a tad dizzy.

“Look, I know I said I wasn’t gonna drink, but. C’mon. Cut me some slack.”

So he did remember their little talk. Engineer should have been at least a little upset, but it was hard to muster up the energy for it. Instead, he moved to wrap his fingers around his beer and mentally curse the lack of a bottle. Just as Scout moved to take a sip of his own drink, Engineer clasped his metal hand onto the boy’s wrist gently and fixed the bright liquid with a worried look. Scout stiffened and stared at him curiously.

“While you were walkin’ past all those people,” Engineer spoke in a more hushed tone, and Scout had to lean in closer just so he could hear. “Nobody dropped anything in there, did they?”

“What?” Scout seemed perplexed as if the question made absolutely no sense, but after Engineer flicked his gaze directly onto him and furrowed his brows, he seemed to instantly realize what he was asking about. Engineer watched Scout’s eyes snapped onto his drink. He eyed it for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“Alright,” the Texan said hesitantly, and he took a moment to eye up his own drink. Instead of drinking, he moved his hand over the top of it and decided to hold off, at least for the time being. Scout was already taking long, enthusiastic sips of his own drink, and should anything go amiss, he at least wanted to be in the right state of mind to help.

Scout sighed contentedly and set his glass down, then leaned back to stretch against the booth. “That’s good. Real tangy.”

Engineer merely nodded and watched Scout from the corner of his eye. A few more people were looking in their direction, and he swore he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Most of those eyes were on Scout, and it shouldn’t have felt so surreal for him to realize that. In any other setting, Scout’s thin frame and baby face would have just made him the subject of ridicule, but here things were a bit different. 

These were predatory stares, from men and women that looked like they ranged anywhere from Scout’s age to as old as their early fifties. All intrigued and curious, probably wondering how old he really was and how he’d gotten past the front door, and Scout was too green to even notice.

Engineer kept his prosthetic hand close to Scout on the table while he worried the tip of a finger on his other hand between his teeth. His stomach churned, and never before in his life could he recall feeling the way he felt in that moment, and yet it was strangely familiar, and frustrating to say the least. He would have given anything to hurry Scout and Demo back into the truck so he could just haul ass back to base and pretend nothing ever happened.

The music faded out into silence, and the cacophony of loud jabbering and drunken laughter almost became too much for him to handle until another song finally started.

Scout was back to sipping away at his drink and Engineer was suddenly busying his mind with trying to guess how much alcohol was in it. Scout said it was tangy, and judging from the color and orange slice, there had to be orange juice in it. What drinks had orange juice in them? Would Scout be able to taste the difference if something was slipped into it? He watched the top of Scout’s throat swell just slightly with each sip as the boy tipped his head back with the glass. Soon, there was nothing left but the ice and cherry, and Scout was quick to do away with that, as well.

He popped the red fruit past his lips and pulled back on the stem. It came back clean, and Scout chewed gently as he cradled his cheek in his hand. The stem was discarded into the glass, and Engineer could only stare at it to keep himself from watching Scout’s lips moved against one another as he ate.

About halfway into the new song, Scout finally swallowed and tilted his head to get a better look at Engineer. The man finally tore his gaze away from the cherry stem to return the boy’s gaze.

“You wanna dance?”

Something flopped in the pit of his stomach. Scout looked only a little unsure of himself when he’d asked it, the rest of his features painted predominantly in confidence, but there was none to be found on Engineer. He forced a laugh and tried to convince himself that it sounded natural.

“I ain’t ever danced to this kind ‘a music.”

“S’the same as dancin’ to anything else.” Scout pursed his lips and raised a brow. “Just, y’know. Movin’ to a beat.”

“That so?”

He winced slightly at how dismissive he sounded, and Scout didn’t seem too pleased with the tone, either. The boy blinked once, slow and thoughtful, as he turned his head to look out at the large swarm of people dancing and smiling. Demo was probably already somewhere in there having enough fun for the both of them, but Scout found very little comfort in the thought.

“Wanna wait for a slower song or somethin’, then?”

Engineer felt his shoulders sag at the question. Knowing Scout, he wasn’t going to give up until he got the older man to go along with whatever he wanted to do, not unless Engineer flat-out told him no. In any other situation, the man would have done just that, but he found it too difficult to do so.

That was happening a lot lately.

“Alright.”

He said it so quiet that he was certain Scout shouldn’t have been able to hear, but if the other’s smile was anything to go by, it was clear that he had. Scout leaned back once again and rolled the sleeves of his sweater up. The material was thin and loose, but he supposed it was still warm enough in there to make it feel like a thick, winter coat. Scout slapped his bare hands on the tabletop and pushed himself up to stand.

“That tasted really freakin’ good, so I’m gonna go get another.”

He pointed to the empty glass and Engineer forced another smile, nodding. Scout seemed ready to ask him something, but when he spotted the beer underneath Engineer’s hands without so much as a single sip taken from it, he snickered. “I’ll be right back,” he added before slipping away from the booth and back through the pack. Engineer did his best to ignore the lonesome feeling that threatened to tip over onto him, as well as the hungry looks that locked onto Scout’s retreating form.

Engineer was checking his watch frequently. It’d already been about three minutes, and Scout still wasn’t back with his drink. He tried not to let himself worry over the kid; the last thing he needed was for Engineer to make a scene and hover over him like he was a preacher’s daughter. Scout was a grown man, and he pumped other men full of bullets for a living. He could handle himself just fine.

The frothy foam on his beer had long since receded, and the glass felt warm. Even if he wanted to, Engineer wouldn’t be able to bring himself to drink it, so he pushed it away and began scooting toward the edge of the bench. He came to a stand and reluctantly started to weave around the throng of intoxicated strangers. The stench burned his nose, all unfamiliar flowery scents and fruity alcohol that was just too much for him to handle. A hand came to rest on the top of his head briefly with long nails, and then it was on his shoulder, trying to pull him back towards its owner. It only urged him to duck away from it and move along even faster, away from a giggling woman who tried calling out to him.

He didn’t much feel up to the task of feigning politeness. Instead, he swallowed the little lump of discomfiture in his throat and focused on taking even steps to the bar. 

When he arrived, Scout wasn’t there. Engineer’s breathing had started coming up more ragged and shallow than he would have liked. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets and scanned the area for any sign of the boy, or at least Demo. When he couldn’t spot either of them, he began to work his way toward the middle of the room.

Surely, Scout must have gotten fed up with doing nothing but sitting around with an introverted old man. The thought stung a bit, but he was merely being honest with himself. It was a better thought than the other possibilities that began to list themselves off in the forefront of Engineer’s mind, anyway.

But when he saw Scout tucked away on the edge of the crowd with his arms wrapped around a taller woman’s waist, he had to keep from smacking himself at the pang he felt in his chest.

She was blonde and so damn tall - probably as tall as Heavy, and that was without heels. She must have kicked them off at some point, because she was barefoot and swaying with her own arms around Scout’s middle, torn between moving them up higher to rest on his shoulders or just keeping them where they were. Curly-haired and dark-skinned, with enough makeup to hide any trace of masculinity that was still left behind on her features, and Engineer couldn’t help but wonder if Scout knew. 

Engineer wrestled with himself internally, trying to decide on the best course of action.

_Leave ‘em alone_ , he thought. _They’re both smilin’, he’s havin’ a good time. Just go sit your ass back down and wait for him to come back when he wants to._

He watched long enough to see the woman’s fingers tug and play with the end of Scout’s sweater, no doubt trying to hint that she wanted it off. Long enough to watch her head dip so she could say something against Scout’s ear, which earned her a nervous yet cocky grin from the boy. Engineer felt only a small sense of victory at the fact that Scout had worn a turtleneck since she was eyeing that column of flesh with a desperate and uncertain look on her face.

He turned away from the sight and made his way back to the booth where he belonged.

_He’s fine. That’s good._

It was around an hour later when Scout finally returned.

Engineer had gotten himself another beer, in a bottle this time, and had a few napkins crumpled in front of him as he scribbled something down on a clean one. Upon feeling the younger male’s eyes on him, he lifted his head to look up at him.

Only the back of his shirt had gotten untucked, but his sleeves were back to covering the full length of his arms. Scout shoved his hands into his pockets as best as he could, and Engineer tried not to focus on how tight the material of those dark jeans were around his hips and thighs. He offered the boy a smile, but Scout didn’t seem too impressed with it. He kept it nonetheless and turned back to scribbling worried, little notes about some ideas he had for inventions floating around his head.

“Saw ya’ dancin’ with a fine-lookin’ lady. Have fun?”

“No.”

Engineer’s attention was pulled back onto Scout. He looked downright depressed, a sharp contrast from how he looked before. The Texan’s eyes narrowed as he leaned back some.

“How much you have to drink?”

“I’unno. Don’t really care.”

Engineer sighed heavily but started to scoot over and make room for Scout when the other looked as though he wanted to sit down. Just as he did, however, Scout’s hand moved to press against his stomach. Engineer watched him carefully and noted how pale he was.

“...You feelin’ alright?”

Scout didn’t answer, didn’t even shake or nod his head. He simply stood there with his other hand gripped tightly against the edge of the table. He was still as stone, trying to solidify and steady himself against whatever had him feeling so rough, but when another wave of nausea swept over him, Scout lurched forward and sent the hand on his stomach flying up to cover his mouth.

Engineer cursed and yanked himself out of the booth. Both of his hands moved to grasp at Scout’s shoulders and steady him, but Scout used it as an opportunity to lean into the older man. Engineer stumble just a bit before steeling himself. He stood firm so he could support Scout’s weight as his hand moved up and down along the length of the younger man’s back. When nothing was said, he chuckled anxiously and spoke just loud enough for Scout to hear.

“Don’t go pukin’ on me, son. This is my only nice shirt.”

Scout didn’t say anything, but he did angle his head to press his face into Engineer’s neck.

Heat rose to Engineer’s face at the sensation of those hot, uneven breaths against the sensitive area. He cleared his throat and carefully pushed Scout to his feet. The other looked ready to protest, but Engineer was quick to cut him off.

“Let’s go find Demo.”

“What? No.”

“Scout.” Engineer slumped and shook his head at the wobbly mess in front of him. “Ya’ look awful.”

“I’m fine, man. Don’t go and drag Demo into this. I don’t wanna ruin this for him, too.”

The wording concerned Engineer, but he had a decent grasp on what Scout was feeling. It would only embarrass him to have to call it an early night because he went and sick, but the last thing Engineer wanted was for him to stay and risk getting worse. Demo probably already found someone to spend the night with, anyway.

Engineer removed his hands from Scout’s shoulders slowly, and he watched as the boy teetered and tried to regain his balance.

“Can ya’ walk?”

There was an exaggerated scoff, but it was followed by a swift nod. Engineer moved to grab Scout’s arm and drape it over his shoulders anyway, then began walking them towards the exit.

The cool night air hit Scout hard and only made him dizzier, but the poor kid’s weight was hardly an issue for Engineer. He was just glad to be out of that pit, and as he held the truck door open for Scout and helped him inside, it became resoundingly obvious that they hadn’t even come up with a plan for in case they split up at some point during this little venture. Engineer kept the door open just long enough for him to look back at the brightly lit building. The only person still outside was the bouncer, who sat at the table with a bored expression. 

Scout seemed to pick up on Engineer’s thoughts. He leaned toward the man and slurred as he spoke.

“How we gonna let Demo know where we are?”

Engineer shook his head and looked down at the pavement, then carefully shut the door. He watched Scout roll the window down, then lean heavily against it.

“I don’t wanna leave ya’ out here alone,” the Engineer stated simply. Scout tsk’d and pressed his cheek into the window frame.

“I’ll be a’ight.”

“Mm-mm.” Engineer shook his head yet again, then walked around to the driver’s side. He opened the door, climbed in, and reached over to dig around in the glove compartment. He found a pen and a receipt from the drive-in where he and Scout went for a bite to eat every weekend. The man grunted as he shut the glove box and scribbled onto the back of the greasy piece of paper as neatly as possible. Scout watched him intently the entire time.

“Stay here,” he instructed, to which Scout nodded.

Engineer didn’t want to bother the man, but he couldn’t think of anything else at such short notice. When he stepped up to the table where the bouncer was seated, he held the receipt out for him. To his surprise, the man took it.

“Sorry to trouble ya’, but our friend is still havin’ a good time in there, and we’re just too tired to keep up with ‘im.” He watched the larger man read over what he’d written, then rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Could ya’ maybe, I dunno. Get someone to say that over the speakers for us?”

“Kid got sick?” The man’s eyes darted to the truck momentarily before settling back onto Engineer.

“Heh, yeah. Too much to drink, but he’ll be fine.”

“Hmm.”

The man seemed skeptical for some reason, which didn’t sit well with Engineer. It irritated him, and all he wanted to do was get the hell away from there without leaving his friend a single clue as to where they’d gone. When the bouncer smiled and stood to pocket the note, Engineer was left feeling a little uneasy.

“I’ll get someone to shout it,” he finally said. Engineer let out a breath he’d been holding and nodded.

“Thanks, partner.”

“M’hm.”

Engineer watched as the mass of muscle began moving from behind the table and into the building. He really hoped that wouldn’t somehow bite him in the ass later, but he had an intoxicated Scout to worry about, too. 

When he made his way back over to the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat, Scout already looked like he was half-asleep. Thankfully the key was still in his shirt pocket, and when he started the engine, Scout’s eyes fluttered open. He seemed to be looking for something, one hand patting around the seat haphazardly before he gave up and draped his arm across his stomach. Engineer watched him before pulling out of their parking space and into the far side of the lane. 

“How ya’ feelin’?” It was soft and strained, but Engineer appreciated the fact that he could finally hear himself talk again. Scout let his head droop in the older man’s direction, eyes closed again.

“Stomach feels like it’s rotted or somethin’.” Engineer grimaced mildly at the description. “Like I swallowed a big hunk ‘a sugar.”

“Ah, yeah.” Engineer sounded as though he knew exactly what Scout was describing. “Whatever you were drinkin’ so much of probably had plenty of it.”

“Oh.” Scout was silent after that, eyes heavy and lidded as he stared at Engineer’s hands. Looking out of the window only seemed to make him feel sicker, but he did leave it rolled down to allow for a breeze. Just as Engineer turned onto another street, Scout spoke again. “How long were we in there?”

“Two hours or so, maybe less.”

Scout didn’t like that.

He groaned and shifted in his seat to close his eyes and press his forehead into the car door. Engineer felt himself smile sincerely. “What’s wrong, son? Thought ya’d last longer?”

“Demo’s gonna think I’m a freakin’ wuss.”

The smile slipped away just as quickly as it had come. “No, he won’t,” Engineer said reassuringly. Of course, he couldn’t say for sure, but he’d gotten to know the Scotsman a lot better than he ever figured in the past weeks, and it was abundantly clear that Demoman was a free spirit despite being worked so hard by his own mother.

He didn’t give Scout any other words of solace, but the boy seemed to have taken comfort in what little he did say regardless. Engineer turned into a mostly empty parking lot and took a space closest to the building. Scout cracked his eyes open and sat up.

“Where are we?”

Engineer opened his door and stepped out. “Motel.”

He should have been ashamed, but Engineer didn’t even bother to ask if Scout wanted a separate room. The man had convinced himself it would be better if they shared a room so he could watch over the other and make sure he didn’t puke his guts out or fall over and hit his head on something. In his defense, he was genuinely concerned about those things happening, but he also couldn’t bring himself to let Scout out of his sight. He kept the boy behind him as he paid for a room.

Two beds, color television, and non-smoking.

The man at the counter gave them a funny look, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Engineer could only hope that they didn’t wake up twenty minutes later with the policed banging on their door. Scout watched as the room key was handed over and followed Engineer back outside.

They had the room at the very end, which was probably a tactic of some sort, but Engineer decided not to dwell on it. He was quickly catching up to Scout in terms of tiredness, even though he’d only had half a bottle of beer. He unlocked the door with little resistance and pushed it open. His hand felt along the wall for the light switch, and he turned it on.

It was sparse, but it didn’t really matter. There were two beds, a television set, and it smelled clean enough - all the things he'd paid for. Engineer stepped aside to allow Scout in first. The boy walked past him, yanking the front of his sweater free from his pants with a tired grunt. 

Engineer shut the door behind him and locked it. He studied Scout for a bit, watching as the younger man moved toward the bed closest to him. Black, ankle-high boots were kicked off against the wall with a soft thud before Scout crawled onto the mattress. It creaked at the added weight, but Scout was undeterred. He turned onto his back and let his head fall onto the pillows beneath him, both hands moved back to rest atop his stomach.

“Comfortable?”

“It’s okay,” Scout answered truthfully. Engineer padded quietly over to his bed, separated only by a nightstand with an old lamp and a paperback copy of the Holy Bible resting inconspicuously next to it. Engineer sat on the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the book for a brief couple of seconds before he reached over to slip it into the drawer and hide it away.

When he lifted his head and saw Scout’s eyes on him, he cleared his throat and looked over to the television set.

“Wanna watch somethin’?”

Scout didn’t answer. Instead, he moved his gaze to the drawer, where it lingered and allowed for a faintly sanguine expression to settle onto the younger man’s face. Engineer could only watch him, and when Scout’s cheeks suddenly became florid, the boy turned his head and stared hard at the ceiling.

“That lady was a guy.”

It was so sudden and blunt that Engineer almost sputtered and laughed. He let a puff of air escape his nose instead, then stood and turned his back to Scout to unbutton his shirt.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Scout nodded, and Engineer could hear the soft hiss of fabric from the pillowcase as he did so. Scout’s eyes narrowed as he struggled to put together his next sentence. “Well, kinda. He had, y’know. Tits, but. His voice was so deep. It was weird.”

Engineer had nothing to add. He merely shrugged his shirt off and tossed it onto the dresser. He tugged the ends of his undershirt free, then settled his hands onto his belt, where they froze in uncertainty.

“Demo wasn’t kiddin’, huh? I ain’t ever seen someone like that before, not in person.”

“They’re just people,” Engineer finally managed to say. He unbuckled his belt and tugged it free. “Confused, like the rest of us.”

“What makes people like that, though?”

Engineer slowly turned to look at Scout. 

His eyes were glossy, and his face was twisted with a sickening look of worry. His voice came out in strangled rasps, and he didn’t dare look away from the ceiling. Engineer frowned deeply at the sight, and Scout’s chest rose up and down with short, hollow breaths as he spoke.

“What makes ya’ confused? What happens to ya’ to make ya’ so unhappy with just bein’ normal?”

Engineer had never been so desperate for words before in his life, but no matter how hard he searched for them, he only returned empty-handed. He dropped his belt onto the bed and sat down again, arms draped limply over the top of his knees.

It felt like an eternity had passed before Scout finally spoke again, this time in a more even and calm voice.

“I saw ya’ watchin’ us.”

Engineer tensed.

“I was so mad,” Scout added under a chuckle. “I was so mad, ‘cus I really wanted to have fun with you. I wanted you to come dance with me and just, do somethin’.” Scout looked over to him, and his eyes were still flooded with tears he wouldn’t let fall.

“Somethin’ other than workin’ on cars or fixin’ stuff or movin’ dispensers an’ sentries around. ‘Cus that’s all I ever see you do. You just go, go, go, and you’re so freakin’ tired that you’re _sleepin’_ in your work, man.”

Engineer’s throat was too tight to even swallow. All he could manage to do was stare at Scout as hot, fat tears finally spilled over his lids and rolled down his cheeks. He could tell it meant humiliation for Scout when the other’s hands moved to cover his face. He hid as he carried on, voice muffled and discordant.

“You’re gonna get sick again, stupid. And what if it’s worse than some dumb cold? That was already so bad on ya'”

Engineer moved to sit on Scout’s bed. He curled his fingers around one of his wrists and pulled a hand away from the other’s face, but Scout only snapped his head to the side and did his best to obstruct the older man’s view of him. Engineer let go of him, and Scout’s arm fell limp against the pillow. 

“I ain’t gonna get sick again.”

Once again, he left Scout unimpressed. The boy’s other hand moved over the exposed half of his face, where he laid it palm-up and fingers curled. Scout shook his head and sighed. Frustrated, Engineer pounded a fist against his own knee.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell ya’, Scout. I been goin’ on this way for a long time now, and I ain’t killed over yet.” When he was met with more silence, he set his hand to Scout’s shoulder and shook him gently, trying to be assuring. “What do you reckon I should do? Quit workin’ and just sit around all day, doin’ nothin’?”

“Just take a damn break every now and then. Make someone else cook for a while, take it easy with the stupid truck.”

“Shit, son.” It was his turn to shake his head. Engineer chuckled bitterly and lowered his head into his hand. “Just the other day you were fussin’ at me to fix the damn alarm clock and put a screen in your window.”

The mattress creaked again as Scout sat up and twisted toward Engineer. He moved onto his knees and Engineer was just as quick to face him in turn with a narrowed glare.

“Yeah, I did! ‘Cus that stuff’s easy, and the stupid bug screen gotcha outta’ the shop for a couple ‘a hours! You’re like a hermit or somethin’, you just spend all your time down there, obsessin’ over shit that’s just gonna end up breakin’ again, anyway!”

“I’ve spent so much damned time teachin’ you how to drive that I ain’t hardly had any left to work on much else.”

“Yeah, uh-huh. Lotta time outta your stupid, little cave. ‘Cus god forbid you go outside without your dumb wrench in your hand.”

Engineer released a guttural sound from deep inside his chest. He stood and fumbled to get his jeans undone, fingers stiff with aggravation. “You’re such a pain in my ass sometimes, Scout.”

“Oh, I am?”

“Yeah, you are.” He gave a heavy nod of his head for each word as he said them and kicked his pants off. He fisted the blankets on his bed and yanked them back. “You’re a brat. Always gotta come bother me and get in the damn way.”

That managed to silence the Scout once more, but it was short-lived. In a much softer tone than before, he said:

“Just tell me why you always gotta have somethin’ to fix.”

Engineer dropped the blankets and turned to face Scout. He was still pale but red-faced, and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy. He had a hard time believing it, but it felt as though Scout had laced those words with a hidden meaning. Engineer’s eyes remained narrowed as another gush of anger managed to bubble up into his chest. Surely, Scout wasn’t trying to play mind games on him. Not Scout.

Engineer’s face hardened, and he gave the coldest glare he could muster.

“It’s my job, Scout,” he muttered. “And I like doin’ it.”

He’d been expecting more, that much was obvious. Scout’s form went slack, almost as if Engineer’s indelicate answer managed to sap the rest of his energy. 

Engineer tried to ignore the turning in his stomach. Scout didn’t move as the man walked back to the switch and flicked the lights off. He barely allowed himself the time for his eyes to adjust as he stepped back over to his bed and laid down. Once he had the blankets pulled over him, he closed his eyes.

After a while, he heard the rustling of sheets as Scout settled into them, and he was soon left with nothing but the boy’s breathing and the sound of distant cars to lull him to sleep.


	13. That's When He Knew

It was such a noisy morning, as always.

Dell woke to the sound of blackbirds and crows making a fuss in the fields somewhere, most likely fighting over the rice. He turned over in bed and ran a hand through his short, coarse hair. He wanted to go back to sleep more than anything, but at any second, he’d hear his father stomp onto the front porch and fire his shotgun into the field, so he didn’t see much point in trying.

After sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Dell stretched and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The sharp smell of sausage and eggs pierced through to his room and was enough to pull him to his feet. After a cool shower and a change into a fresh suit of clothes, he’d go eat and hurry around the outside of the house to help his father with chores before school. This was the routine for every single day, technically even on the weekends, and the only good thing he could say for it was that he’d at least gotten used to it. 

He heard the screen door slam and a shotgun fire, then the panicked warbles of birds fading into silence. 

His parents were already sat at the table, with Father all dressed and ready to get to work and Mother still in her nightgown and curlers. They slept in entirely separate rooms, and that distance carried itself over even while they were in the same room. Dell ignored the tension and finished rolling up his sleeves as he descended the stairs. Mother looked up from her coffee and gave him a tired smile. He returned it.

“Well, good mornin’, sugar.”

“Mornin’,” he responded softly. She went back to her coffee, both hands lifting the steaming mug to her lips for her to take a gracious sip. Father said nothing; merely went about eating his breakfast and scanning over articles in the morning paper. Dell sat down in between the two of them and began piling food onto his plate. Mother reached behind herself toward the kitchen counter and grabbed the pot of coffee she’d just made, then moved to pour Dell a cup. He wasn’t too fond of the stuff, at least not at that age, but he took a polite sip before immediately trying to counter the bitter taste with a bite of buttered toast. 

“Damn birds are eatin’ up all the rice again.”

No words were given in response after Father had spoken. Mother merely offered a soft hum of acknowledgment, distant and detached. This didn’t seem to bother Father, however. He took a greedy bite of sausage and turned the page of his newspaper. “Scarecrows ain’t doin’ a damn thing to stop ‘em.”

“Could try hangin’ up some pie tins. Nancy does that for her garden.”

“I ain’t hangin’ trash up in the damn trees.”

Mother swirled a spoon into her coffee and rolled her eyes. “It was just a suggestion.” Dell had already tuned out of the conversation. Father was just looking to start some sort of conflict, and he couldn’t understand why Mother would even feed into it. Then again, she didn’t have too much of a choice. Saying nothing would just irritate the older man and he’d pull Dell away from the table and make him get to work even sooner. 

Mother was swift to change the subject. She turned her head to settle a loving gaze onto Dell, chin resting in her small hand.

“How’d you sleep, darlin’?”

Dell nodded slowly and shrugged. “Alright.”

“That’s good,” she said, watching the boy eat. Her hand slipped to her neck and stilled. “You talked to that girl lately? What was her name?”

“Anna.”

“That’s right. How’s she doin’?”

Dell shook his head and timidly chewed the eggs he’d shoveled into his mouth. Mother’s smile faltered a bit, and he swallowed. “Ain’t talked to her in a few days. Think she got bored of me.”

“Oh?” She looked down at her own toast and frowned. “Well, that’s a shame. I wonder why she’d go and do that?”

“He’s got a lot of responsibilities, anyway.”

Mother didn’t even bother to look up to Father when he spoke again. The man scraped his fork against his plate as he tried to collect the remaining crumbs of his food. Dell squinted a bit at the offending sound. “Between chores at home and school, he ain’t got time to go around takin’ girls on dates.” 

Dell tried to hurry his eating, but he didn’t want to come off as rude to either of them. Mother was fairly strict about table manners, and Father was speculative. 

“She was so pretty and nice. All that red hair.” Mother sighed and shifted her weight, both hands moved to rest in her lap. “Y’all looked so cute together. Would’a made some beautiful babies.”

“He’s got school.” Father put heavy emphasis on each word, voice deep and stern, but the woman’s face held an expression that gave the impression she wasn’t even listening or didn’t care. She huffed and finished off her toast before standing and scooping up her mug to pour herself more coffee. Dell nearly choked on his food but managed to finish quickly before more could be said.

He stood and gathered up his plate. Just as he turned to walk it to the sink, Mother took it from him and shook her head. “I’ll wash it, sugar.”

“Thank you,” he said stiffly, then turned to make his way for the door. It creaked loudly on its hinges as he opened it, and he was more than a little careful to not let it slam shut. He had chickens to feed and a tractor that needed maintenance. After that, he would have to be quick in getting to school.

It took an hour and a half to finish his morning chores. It took thirty minutes to get to school if the car was running alright. He usually got there fifteen minutes before the first bell, and that was the only free time he had in a day unless sleeping was to be counted. 

Grandpa was an engineer and worked for some shady company that he refused to talk about with anyone except Father, who ended up working the same position for the same company until Dell was around eight years old. Somehow, he’d managed to wriggle out of his contract, and ever since, he and Grandpa didn’t get along too well. Father seemed steadfast in his decision at first, but after Grandpa passed away, he quickly became stoic and regretful. 

The pressure was on Dell to pick up everything his father had dropped, and while Dell wasn’t one to toot his own horn, he had the mind to think he was better and smarter than his father. Grandpa sure seemed to think so.

Regardless, it only served to push his father into forcing Dell to take all kinds of extra-curricular activities and classes throughout his school years. Dell excelled in most of them - he wasn’t too good at anything artistic - and managed to make a pretty decent name for himself in the community. He was well-liked and had no real problems with anyone. Teachers loved him of course, and he’d managed to attract the attention of quite a few pretty girls despite his short stature. They looked at Dell and thought, _‘Stability.’_

_‘He’s going somewhere. He’s smart, and sweet, and amiable. He’ll be successful and make a good husband.’_

This couldn’t be much farther from the truth, at least in regards to his “stability.”

Sure, he might be set financially after everything was said and done, but Dell felt close to a meltdown with each passing day. He loved learning and education, yes. He loved engineering and the science behind it, thanks to good ol’ Grandpa and maybe a smidgen to Father, but.

He was damn tired for a seventeen-year-old.

That was the first thing anyone he tried to date noticed. As much as he resented the fact, his father was right: he had no time for dating, and he certainly didn’t have the energy. Father wasn’t the type for emotions and excuses. If you were told to get something done, you better get it done. Mother was hard-working in her own right, but she had to learn to stifle herself when it came to complaints or inklings of sadness. Dell remembered her being eerily quiet when he was much younger. She hardly spoke unless something was asked of her, but as he got older, she slowly started to open up to him more.

It’s a very strange feeling to not really know anything about your own mother while she’s sat right beside you, knitting and listening to the radio as if it’s perfectly normal until you turn thirteen and she suddenly has plenty to talk about with you.

Needless to say, there weren’t many nice things for her to talk about. 

Most conversations were rants, at best. Talks of how she hated living there and wanted to go back home to Oklahoma, how she couldn’t stand Father and felt like she was trapped. Every now and then, she’d slip up and say something hurtful, something about how if she hadn’t gotten pregnant, she wouldn’t have had to move to Bee Cave with his father. She’d quickly recover and say how much she loved Dell and that he was the only good thing to come out of her marriage, but the sting was still there, and it lingered dreadfully in his chest.

“I want you to find someone you love,” she’d say to him often.

Occasional hurtful words aside, he’d gotten closer to his mother as he got older. He learned how to cook and clean from her, learned how to sew and knit; things that his father would probably have a heart-attack over if he knew she was teaching them to him.

“I want you to get yourself a nice girl and settle down.”

Dell learned emotion from his mother. He’d spent so many long years of his life in complete static before she suddenly decided to open up to him. She would vent to him and allow him to do the same. There were plenty of late nights spent talking in her bedroom. She would sit in the chair by the vanity, and he’d sit on the bed and flip through whatever catalog she’d received in the post box that month. It was uncomfortable at first, since he didn’t know how to speak his own mind about any grievances he had, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to handle and process hers, but after a while, it got easier, and he began to feel like a person. He was happier and spoke more at school. People liked to be around him since he wasn’t sat in the back corner of class with his eyes glued to his work. 

“I don’t want you to be trapped. I don’t want you to go and get yourself stuck in a place where you ain’t happy.”

Dell believed her, and he promised her he wouldn’t. 

He loved engineering and the science behind it.

But he didn’t love dedicating every waking minute to it, and he didn’t love the thought of it owning him.

Dell had dated only a few girls.

There was Margaret. She was sweet and bubbly and had the cutest laugh he’d ever heard, but after a few weeks went by without so much as a single date at the picture show or drug store, she’d given up him and called it quits. She was only a few years younger than him, but it still managed to feel like she was somehow too immature for him. It stung a bit, but he managed to recover within three or four days.

Three months after that was when he met Ruth, and he fell pretty hard for her, with those big, pretty blue eyes that were easy to get lost in and the way she always hung around him to make sure he was okay. He got real close to buying that girl a promise ring, but one day they’d gotten into a big spat. She’d said he felt closed-off, and that no matter how hard she tried, she felt like she couldn’t get through to him. Dell had never felt so bewildered in all his life. He was so sure everything between them was perfect.

Nothing is ever perfect, though.

Another year and some months went by, and then he met Anna. They’d only dated for two months, but he felt like it lasted years. Anna had managed to pull words from him that he hadn't spoken to many others before. She was loud and head-strong; very independent and intelligent. She was a smooth-talker and always managed to get what she wanted one way or another. She was significantly taller than him, and while that led to a few embarrassing conversations with their friends and family, it only made his view of her all the more enjoyable. Once again, he felt the need for a promise ring.

Until a figurative wrench was thrown into his plans, and he wasn’t at all lost on the irony.

She’d invited him over to her house one evening while her parents were out. She’d been left to babysit her younger brother, and she called him after she managed to get the poor kid to sleep. He should have told her “no” to the invitation. After all, a lot of things could go wrong and he wasn’t sure he was in the position to test fate, but she had a low sultry hum in her voice as she spoke that quickly reminded him: what Anna wants, Anna gets.

So Dell was pretty quick to find himself in her house, eating what was left over from the dinner she cooked for her little brother and herself, chatting and flirting playfully, then moving into her bedroom. She’d laid down on her over-stuffed mattress and made herself look as enticing as possible, hands rested on either side of her head and long, slim legs bent at the knee so her dress slid down along her thighs and exposed creamy flesh underneath.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

And yet...

As soon as he was over her and those long legs wrapped around his waist, something felt wrong. He unbuttoned her blouse and pulled the fabric apart, and Anna had developed well into her late teens; any normal, red-blooded man would have no problem laying their hands on her heaving chest and palming those thick mounds of flesh. After all, she was willing, and fixing him with a beckoning stare was hard to ignore.

Dell must not have been a normal, red-blooded man, because he found himself lost and devoid of desire as soon as she pulled her bra up. His hands remained planted firmly on the mattress, and the smile dropped hard from his face into a tight, concerned frown. Pretty soon, Anna was mirroring his expression. She asked him what was wrong, and he didn’t respond, which only made her glance off to her right and shrink into herself a little. Her face hadn’t been red at all until that moment. The questions continued.

_Do you not like them?_

_Are they too small?_

_Are they too big?_

_Am I ugly?_

Dell shook his head fervently and tried to calm her anxieties, but as he leaned away and pulled himself free from the loose grip of her legs so he could stand, Anna sat up and covered her chest with her arms. They stared at each other for the longest minute he’d ever lived, and she looked down at the floor. His stomach hurt when he saw her face. He’d never seen her look insecure.

He’d never felt so guilty.

He had apologized to her and said she was beautiful, but that he felt strange and needed to go home. She didn’t stop him, but she didn’t see him to the door, either. He left, simple as that, and took the short, lonely drive back home. They didn’t talk to each other the next day or the day after. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her in class. None of her friends seemed upset with him, and he was grateful for her apparent discretion on the matter.

But God, he felt horrible.

The human heart wasn’t something he could just pop open and take a peek at. There were no manuals or tools he could use to fix it. All he understood was that there was a problem. He loved that girl, so why couldn’t he give her what she wanted? An engagement and marriage were totally plausible and easy to think about, so why would sex serve to be such an impassible obstacle?

Dell thought long and hard on the matter. He relived that moment so many times that he was certain he had every single detail memorized, and he just had to go and make the horrible mistake of letting just how much it bothered him show. Dell got along with everyone he met fine enough, but he didn’t have many people he could call friends. Not many people in Travis or Hays county really cared much for science or engineering. The only thing he could really utilize to connect to other boys his age was his know-how in fixing up cars and farming.

There was one boy, however, who he’d managed to become good friends with, and that was Thomas.

He was a year older than Dell, a lot taller, and into sports. Basketball, football, baseball - it didn’t really matter, but football was definitely Thomas’s passion, and he managed to go against the grain with his interest in science. He wasn’t as fluent in it as Dell, but he could definitely keep up with him, and that was plenty enough to cement a healthy bond between the two of them.

“You’ve been lookin’ mighty down ever since you and Anna stopped goin’ steady.”

Dell had been pulled from his own thoughts when Thomas sat down next to him, and his fingers tightened around the glass neck of an empty cola bottle. 

It was after school. The edges of the sky were colored a hue similar to that of a ripe peach, and Dell remembered it so vividly in association with the smell of cut grass from the football field and Thomas’s cologne. Dell heaved a sigh and shook his head, which only made Thomas quirk a jet-black eyebrow.

“Just provin’ my point.”

“I didn’t think it was obvious,” Dell replied bitterly. He set the green-tinted bottle down next to him and leaned back.

A warm, summer breeze moved over the both of them, and Dell reveled in the brief comfort it brought him.

He cast his gaze onto Thomas, who was inspecting his nails with a small pout. When the taller boy returned the look, he offered Dell a dimpled smile and shrugged. “Maybe not to other people, but I’ve got’cha figured out, Drip.”

“I told ya’ not to call me that,” Dell said morosely. Thomas screwed his eyes shut and laughed, leaning back to mimic his friend. Dell couldn’t find it in himself to laugh along. Instead, he stared up at a wispy, purple-gray cloud in the sky. It was the only one, up there alone.

He felt an elbow nudge him against the shoulder.

“Hey, look. I’m sorry. You ain’t boring. I won’t call ya’ that no more.” Dell scoffed. He’d hard that a thousand times since he first met the other. Thomas frowned. “What’s got you so gloomy? Did she say somethin’?”

“Naw,” Dell confirmed. He rubbed his hand against his knee before squeezing. “She ain’t ever said a mean thing to me.”

“So, did you say somethin’?”

He squirmed a bit as if the question were a microscope fixed right on him. Dell rubbed the back of his head and grimaced at how damp his hair was.

“It’s more like what I did.” A pause, and he slumped. “Or what I didn’t do.”

Thomas turned to lay on his side with an elbow on the row of seats just above theirs. He faced Dell and stared at him expectantly, only to receive silence in return. Somewhere off in the thick of the bushes and trees just behind them, bullfrogs started to croak at one another. It was noisy enough to provoke Dell into glaring down at his hands, but Thomas didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Didn’t take her on enough dates?”

Dell shook his head and tugged gently at his ring finger. Thomas clicked his tongue and rolled his head back to look up at the sky. Dell knew his elusive tendencies annoyed the other, but how was he supposed to bring up what happened to him? He was still trying to work out the issue himself. 

Thomas looked out to the field and stared, but Dell could never figure out what was so interesting. It was just the two of them out there unless the noisy frogs were to be counted.

“She try to get ya’ to mess around with ‘er?”

Dell stiffened, but couldn’t stop himself from giving a single nod. Thomas gave a drawn-out ‘ahh’ and shifted to get more comfortable. “And you told her you didn’t want to.”

“I did want to.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Maybe it was the cola, but Dell’s chest tightened and stung. He shook his head and fidgeted, acting as if he were about to come to a stand. Thomas must have sensed it because the boy’s hand reached out to tug on Dell’s sleeve. “C’mon, tell me.”

“It didn’t feel right.”

Dell had blurted it out so quickly that it surprised not only Thomas but himself as well. He raised his hands with his palms facing upward as if waiting for the right words to fall from the sky for him to catch. He groaned weakly when nothing came. “I dunno, Tom.”

“I mean,” Thomas sat up and moved closer to Dell so he could use a more hushed tone, even though they were alone. “What, was she just not your type, or...?”

“I guess not,” Dell answered, uncertain. “I took one look at her without her shit on and just felt... bad.”

When Thomas leaned away and fixed him with a worried stare, Dell felt as though he were about to implode. Another long stretch of silence passed between them before the older boy spoke to Dell again.

“Are you, uh. You know.”

Dell stared at him with a knowing look, and he knew he must have been pale. His palms were clammy, and he felt like he was on the brink of throwing up. He silently begged Thomas not to ask the question, but his signal must not have been strong enough.

“Do you think you’re a queer?”

Dell’s upper half fell forward so he could bury his face in his hands. Thomas watched him with a focused expression as if anything Dell said from that point on had the potential to be a deal-breaker. He wanted nothing more than to just evaporate into nothingness. He’d already lost Anna, and it felt like Thomas was on the verge of throwing him off the bleachers and kicking his ass. He refused to answer the question because even if he said ‘no’ and gave the most convincing argument he could in his defense, his body language was that of a guilty man.

Thomas would know, and he already knew.

When a hand came forward and grasped his shoulder, Dell expected the next thing he felt to be a fist against his face, but it never came. He lowered his hands and took a chance at looking at his friend. Thomas looked disgusted but seemed to have been steeling himself for something. He had his eyes fixed on a button of Dell’s shirt before they moved to the shorter boy’s face and Dell was staring into pools of dark green.

And Thomas should have looked around before he did it, just to make sure no one would walk up and stumble upon the scene. 

But he didn’t.

He just leaned forward and Dell’s eyes went wide at the warmth he felt on his lips. Every breath of air he took through his nose felt like it just wasn’t enough, like his lungs had sprung a leak. It was already dangerous enough, but Thomas seemed determined to get some kind of reaction out of Dell, and he let it last long enough to feel Dell’s shoulder relax under his hand. 

He couldn’t remember when Thomas had even closed his eyes, but when he realized that he had, Dell let his own fall shut. Thomas’s strong hand slid down to his forearm and squeezed, which prompted Dell’s lips to part.

He should have been so ashamed of himself.

The feeling of Thomas’s tongue dart across his bottom lip to slip into his mouth made his stomach do a flip, and just as he pushed his own tongue against the invading muscle, the sensation was lost. Dell’s eyes snapped open to see Thomas pull away. Something in him began to ache at the sight of his friend wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in disgust.

Thomas stood, his taller and more muscular frame as rigid as stone. He wouldn’t even look at Dell as he muttered.

“Hope that answered somethin’ for you.”

Dell watched the other boy jump down from row to row until his feet met the ground. Thomas didn’t look back as he walked away and left Dell to sit alone with the weight of what had just happened. His limbs felt like they’d been set in cement, and every synapse in his brain was sparking and setting off thought after troubled thought. It took Dell all of seven minutes to finally force himself to stand and leave, stomach heavy with anxiety and nausea. 

He never saw Thomas again after that day, and only a week later news had gotten out that the older boy had dropped out of school and moved four hours away to Dallas to work with his brother in a soda bottling plant.

Dell had gone home, finished off the rest of his chores, and got cleaned up for supper.

He ate in silence at the table, went upstairs to complete his homework, and sat on the edge of his bed with a far-off look on his face. He pulled at a loose thread in his bed’s comforter worriedly before rolling it between his thumb and index finger to force it into a messy knot. 

_I’m nervous_ , he concluded inwardly. He was nervous because despite every bit of good sense he had left in him, he couldn’t help but like that kiss.

He loved it. He loved it so much, and his heart had been so painfully desperate for more, but as soon as his best friend broke it and walked away, Dell became hyper-aware of the position he was in.

He scratched his nails against the fabric underneath his hand, subconsciously wanting to rip it to shreds until there was nothing left.

_What am I gonna do? Nothing. I shouldn’t do a damn thing. I should just forget this even happened, and I should phone Anna and tell her I’m sorry again. Tell her I love her and want her back and wanna marry her._

Yet, with each unspoken word, Dell was brought closer and closer to tears. He hadn’t cried since he was six years old, and he did everything in his power to swallow down the sick lumps that were swelling in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut so tight that he saw spots against the backs of his lids, and he didn’t want to cry, he wanted to anything but that. Screaming would have been preferable, maybe even sending his fist through the wall would be nice. He would have rather had to deal with his father yelling at him than to cry, but:

_I loved that kiss._

Dell nearly choked on his breath when he finally shuddered and let a heavy sob out from deep in his chest. It was almost as silent as death itself, but even the small sounds of his sniffling and sparse whimpers made him feel like reaching his hands up to claw deep and hard into his face, anything to get rid of himself and what he felt.

As soon as he felt like he would have done just that, there was a soft knock on his door. It swung open and his mother stood in the doorway with a basket of folded clothes at her hip.

“Sugar, I forgot to put these on your---”

Dell forced himself onto his feet and stared at the woman in horror. She stared back, frozen in the threshold with a pair of wide eyes. She finally blinked and looked down the hallway before stepping into his room and closing the door behind her. 

“What’s wrong?”

She sounded breathless, yet cold. Dell swallowed and shook his head, trying to summon words of consolation, or an excuse that was at least half-way believable. Mother dropped the basket of clothes on the floor by his dressed and stepped closer to him. Her arms parted as if she thought to hug him, but they quickly returned to her sides.

“Why are you cryin’? What’s wrong?”

Still, Dell refused to answer. He kept his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line. Mother looked as if she were about to snap in some way, but she put her hands on Dell’s shoulders and pushed him back to sit on the bed. She took a place beside him, one arm remaining to slide around his form. It held very little weight and Dell struggled to even register it as being there. “Honey, I can’t do nothin’ to make it better if I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”

He supposed he should tell her something, but what would be the best thing to say? His eyes darted along his floor as if some helpful clue would be there. He shook his head and swiped his hand over his eyes.

“It’s nothin’,” he said shakily.

“It is not nothin’. Now, you tell me what happened.”

He cursed. He shouldn’t have let himself break down. Mother was sat beside him and waiting for an answer that he knew he couldn’t give. All he could think about was Thomas, and how he’d know that boy for over four years. 

How they’d bonded over science and how he almost tried out for football just so Thomas would have him on the team with him. How they’d talked about plans after graduation and where they wanted to go. How maybe they’d go to the same university, and they’d be roommates for a while, and try to get jobs at the same place to pay for it all.

How not once, ever in all his time knowing him, did Thomas ever talk about girls, and whether or not he liked anyone.

“Someone kissed me today.”

He wanted it to be like any other time he’d vented to his mother. She’d laugh and say something to make him feel a bit better about whatever stupid thing had gotten under his skin.

Mother looked confused for a moment, then smiled and shook her head.

“Why is that so bad that it’s got ya’ in tears?” Dell didn’t say anything, so she tried again. “What, was she ugly to you?”

He didn’t know exactly what she meant by that, but he shook his head regardless. Mother leaned forward just a bit and rubbed his back. “Sugar, I don’t know...”

“Was another boy, mama.”

Mother’s expression fell from one of light concern to a deep and agitated state of distress. Dell was quick to regret having said anything. The woman stood, and Dell suddenly felt ten times smaller under her peering eyes.

“Who was it?”

“Mama,” he choked out, scoffing. “It weren’t that---”

“No, you tell me who did it. Was it someone you know?”

Dell ran his hand through his hair and tried to put together a sentence that would calm Mother down, but she thrust her hands onto her hips expectantly just to cut him off from saying anything else.

“You need to tell me so I can call the school and let them know.”

“What--- Why does the school need to know?”

“So they can expel him!”

Dell felt something drop into the pit of his stomach. He stood and shook his head, hands help up defensively for a person that wasn’t even there. “Mama, no. It ain’t---”

“He kissed you, Dell! He kissed you and he might do somethin’ worse to you or to someone else!”

“He won’t do that.” He said firmly, lowering his tone to try and coax her to do the same. “He ain’t like that.”

“So you do know ‘im?” Mother looked up and snapped her fingers, listing off the names of other boys she knew of that went to the same school. “Was it Donald Reeves? Or Paul? What about Nancy’s boy, Thomas?”

“It don’t matter who it was.”

“It does matter! I don’t want my only child gettin’ felt up by some bent, little fairy!”

“Just shut up about it!”

And she did, at least for a moment. Her shoulders sagged while his hiked up. Upon the swift realization of what he just said and to who, Dell’s hands moved up to grasp and tug at his own hair. He was crying again, and he fell back to sit on the bed and hang his head. His hands moved back to cover his face. Mother watched him with a twisted look of intrigue before she finally spoke again, voice just barely above a whisper.

“You kissed him back.”

Her voice was sharp and accusing, though there was little need for accusations. She knew, and Dell knew that she did. They both heard the screen door open and slam, then the tell-tale sound of heavy boots against the wooden floor downstairs. Mother’s eyes lidded and she looked down with disdain at the intrusive noise. Dell could do nothing but sit there and cover his face.

“I guess it’s my fault,” she finally said.

Dell’s head snapped up so he could look at her. The woman’s stare remained fixated on the floor as she listened for any more sounds that his father might make.

“What?” He croaked.

“I shouldn’t have taught you how to do all that stuff, like sewin’ and knittin’ and cookin’.” She turned on her heel to grab the basket of his clothes, then walked it over to his bed where she dropped it beside him. “I should’a just let your daddy take over for me when you got old enough.”

She sounded somewhere between saddened and enraged, but Dell couldn’t pinpoint exactly where her sincerity was. He watched as she looked around his room in a judgmental manner before turning to the door.

“Don’t tell him. I sure as hell won’t.”

Dell sat confused and frozen, mouth ajar. She opened the door and stepped through, but looked back over her shoulder through the thin opening she left.

“I’m sorry.”

He finished high school shortly after that. He decided to finally listen to his father’s ever-constant advice and go to college immediately after. He hadn’t originally planned on staying so long, but Engineer quickly found it was easier to lose himself in his schooling. It didn’t take as long as the average student for him to rack up his eleven, hard-earned PhDs, but it wasn’t until he was twenty-nine that he finally had to call it quits.

He rarely spoke to his parents during that time. Hell, he could barely remember the last thing he even said to his mother before he found out she’d passed away. Engineer couldn’t go home, though. He was already set to move out west and hammer out a ten-year contract in the oilfields.

After that, it was off to work for one of the Mann brothers, just as his father instructed him to do.


End file.
